


Golden Blood

by NovaScotHilander



Category: Strike Back
Genre: Bisexuality, Blood cure, Canon Gay Relationship, Caribbean Island, Ebola - Freeform, Established Relationship, Flu Epidemic, Gay Sex, Golden Blood, M/M, Male Slash, Medical Experimentation, Mercenaries, Rare Blood Type
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2019-10-26 04:29:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17739029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovaScotHilander/pseuds/NovaScotHilander
Summary: This is a fan fiction inspired by other fan fictions, notably by Agent Spooky, which is set five years after our boys have left Section 20 behind and struck out on their own as "security consultants" for the very rich of Brazil, a reference to the last episode of Season 6 Strike Back where Damien Scott and Michael Stonebridge put in an appearance. However, retirement has not been smooth sailing for our boys as they are enlisted by the British government to track down and bring back the sole survivor of a new mutation of the H1N1 virus, who has fled the United States with a greedy CDC scientist determined to make billions off her rare blood type. (This is my first fan fiction and I will be releasing one chapter at a time over the course of several weeks.)





	1. Chapter One

 

Chapter One 

 

She heard them before she saw them, the roar of the outboard motor above the ocean surf, and her heart sank with dread. Running over to the window, the woman carefully moved the curtain aside just a crack so as to not alert the men in the dinghy that they were being watched.

The dinghy pulled up to the edge of the beach and the small handful of guests had scattered, running in fear when they saw that the men were armed. Quieting the motor, the two men jumped out of the dinghy and hopped onto the beach in an efficient movement. Automatic weapons at their side, they dragged the dinghy up on the sands.

What the woman saw from her second floor window was the sight of two tall, physically fit men in their thirties, one blond and one dark-haired, dressed casually in cargo pants and t-shirts. The lack of regular uniforms and insignia further increased her dread: she felt nauseous and dropped the curtain back in place. 

The men trudged up the beach and scanned the surrounding buildings of the resort.

“Hey, Mikey,” the dark-haired one said, “Do you get the distinct impression we are not welcomed here?”

Mike gave his companion a slight smile. “Second building from the left, second floor. We’re being watched. The drapes moved when we came ashore.”

Damien Scott squinted in the direction of the pink plastered building. “Yeah, I saw that too. Well, we haven’t been shot at yet. That’s a good sign.” He looked over to his left. “Wait, not everyone ran off. I guess that’s our welcoming committee.”

There was a man on a lounger, sipping a drink, regarding them with all the interest directed at a pair of annoying flies. He didn’t seem to be frightened by them despite the weaponry. With the sun hanging low in the late afternoon sky, sunglasses were removed to get a better look at the men from the sea. He posed no threat so Michael and Scott lowered their rifles.

“Hey, dude, what’s going on?” Damien asked.

The man said nothing and gave them a long quizzical look. There was an uncomfortable pause and the man finally spoke. “Americans,” he said disdainfully.

“Dude, you got that all wrong. I’m American but Michael here is a Brit, like you.”

“When did the Americans decide to work with the British?” the man asked, not unfriendly. He took a sharp look at both of them, but ignored Damien, carefully taking in Michael who maintained a neutral expression, who was sizing him up in return. What the man saw did worry him, but he was careful not to show it. The blond man in the cargo pants was about his height and physically fit, and stood calmly and in control of his emotions.

“We have been contracted by the British government,” Michael asked smoothly, “We’ve been tasked to repatriate certain persons regarding the current health situation. My name is Sergeant Michael Stonebridge, and this here is Sergeant Damien Scott.”

He nodded his head in the direction of his partner, scruffier and unkempt in appearance.

The man seemed friendlier and more intrigued. “Which branch are you two with?”

“Section 20.”

“Never heard of it,” the man said dismissively.

“It’s a top-secret unit, dude,” Damien snorted. “That’s why you never heard of us.”

“You know, calling me ‘dude’ is quite irritating. My name is Edward.” He proffered his hand to Michael but not to Damien. Michael was surprised by the strength of his hand, and the callused palm was at odds with the man’s lean but manicured appearance. He looked and sounded English, but appearances and accents really meant nothing. He could be South African, or a citizen of any one of the Northern European countries educated in Britain.

“Why don’t you two sit down and we can chat? It’s being a long time since we’ve had recent visitors since, you know, the government closed the borders.”

Michael and Damien sat down on the loungers. “Why don’t I get you drinks?” Edward pressed a button on the remote, summoning a server. 

“Nothing alcoholic. Mineral water would be fine,” Michael said. Damien turned his back to Michael and scanned the buildings with his rifle raised.

“No hostiles, Mikey,” Damien said quietly.

“And you wouldn’t find any either. The government has a policy of shoot to kill, if they find any. I take it you obtained permission to come ashore.”

“Of course,” Michael replied. “We came from a Royal Navy frigate just off the coast here. Have you had much problems here with mercenaries?”

A slight smile lifted the corners of the man’s mouth. “Oh, they don’t last long. Weekend warriors who think they can learn everything by reading Soldier of Fortune magazine. But you’re not that caliber.”

“Thank you,” Michael smiled. “It’s always nice to be appreciated by a fellow professional.”

Edward laughed. “I never said I was with the British Army.”

“Then whose army, dude?” retorted Damien.

The Englishman smiled, but somehow the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Everyone’s.”

Michael tried to deflect the growing tension. “Where were you based?”

“Southern Africa, mostly. I worked in Zimbabwe, and I’ve done a lot of work in the Congo.”

“We worked in Africa,” Damien said, “I never hear about you.”

Edward maintained his composure despite Damien’s efforts at needling him. He spoke a little more slowly for Damien’s benefit, as if he was a mentally challenged child. “That was years ago, Sgt. Scott. You were probably in diapers then.” Michael started to laugh. “ Before Zimbabwe was Zimbabwe, when it was Rhodesia. Then I headed back to the Congo and I did some other work in French-speaking countries in Africa. I then retired.”

“Was retired?” Damien persisted. “What happened?”

“The St. Kitts government made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, a very good offer. The borders were closed and I was stranded here so they offered me a job.”

“And what exactly do you do, Mr. – er?” asked Michael.

“It’s just Edward. Call me Edward. I was hired to keep this island safe. To keep this island mercenary-free, regardless of the methods employed as long as no St. Kittians are hurt. Do I make myself understood?”

Michael smiled and nodded deferentially. “Copy that.” His eyes slid across to the side table where a folded newspaper laid there. Michael silently cursed his carelessness when he noticed something hidden under the newspaper. He leaned back and got out his cell phone.

“This is our mission,” he said, showing Edward a photo of a dark-haired Caucasian woman. “We think this woman has gone to ground here on this island and she’s in the company of a scientist from the CDC. They fled Atlanta when the federal government was taken over by the military. A private plane flew them down here and they’re holed up somewhere on the island.” Edward took the phone and looked at the grainy image. “Where was this taken?”

“Eight weeks ago in the Atlanta airport, from security footage,” Michael replied.

“Don’t you have a better photo of this mystery woman? She looks pretty generic.” The Englishman was right about that: the photo didn’t give hardly any indication of her age or height or any distinguishing marks.

“The Americans won’t release her passport photo to us. They don’t want to help the British that much in finding her.” 

“Between you and me and your friend here, that’s quite understandable.” Edward retorted, “If you find her – that is, if she’s on the island – she’ll be taken back to Britain, even though she’s not a citizen. The US has pretty much collapsed and God knows what state the CDC is in.”

Michael looked at him curiously. “How do you know all this?”

“Short-wave radio. BBC World News. What do you want with her?”

“Sorry,” Michael said apologetically. “Need to know basis only. Have you seen this man too?” He swiped the photos again and showed a photo of a bearded man in his late thirties with unruly, pale brown hair and startled blue eyes. “This is Dr. Adam Levenson. He’s the CDC scientist who went AWOL. He’s believed to be on the island too.” 

“No, sorry,” Edward shook his head, “I’ve seen neither of them.”

Damien butted in. “Are you sure about that, Eddie?”

“It’s Edward and yes, I’m sure about him.”

“And the woman?” asked Michael.

Edward shot them both a reproachful look. Michael turned that as a sign to end their conversation.

“Thank you for the offer of the drinks, but we have to unpack our gear.”

“Go talk to the general manager – Mr. Kumar - and he’ll set up you with a free room. Tell him you’re been sent by Edward.”

“That’s awfully generous,” Michael replied. 

Damien got up and pulled out a cigarette, lighting up. “Come on, Mikey. Let’s go see Mr. Kumar. We’ve got a busy day ahead tomorrow.” Both Englishmen stood up and shook hands again. Edward seemed affable, but something about him unnerved Michael. The pale grey eyes looked directly into Michael’s and gave nothing away. That unsettled him: Michael knew instantly that he could have bested the man in a head-on fight, but something told him Edward would never attack him directly. How old was Edward - forty-five, fifty? Still age was no detriment to lethal skill and an utter lack of conscience.

 

As the two soldiers walked towards the main building, Damien turned off the safety on his rifle and Michael did the same. 

“Jesus Christ,” Damien said, looking sideways at Michael. “I thought you two would never finish eye-fucking each other. What was that all about?”

“He’s lying. He knows where the woman is. Didn’t you see the gun he had on the side table?” Michael shook his head.

“Yes, I did,” replied Damien. “But I didn’t want to make a big fuss, in case he reached for his gun and shot one of us. I can’t lose you, Mikey.”

Michael smiled at his partner. “Nor can I lose you.”

As the pair passed each of the smaller resort residences, their training kicked in automatically and they aimed their rifles in the direction of the second story walkways, expecting snipers to greet them. Nothing, no one, no nasty surprises awaited them, but the tension was palpable. Both men were on edge as they made their way to the main building.

 

Mr. Kumar usually did not like show nervousness around potential customers, but the sight of two armed and lethal looking men in his office set him off. He started to sweat while attempting and failing to maintain his composure.

“Any friends of Edward are definitely welcomed here. Anyone with actual military training is always needed here. One of the best suites in the main building is empty right now. How long will you be staying?”

“As long as it takes to complete our mission,” Michael said. “We would prefer to be put in one of the buildings by the ocean, just to keep an eye on any new arrivals.”

“Of course,” Mr. Kumar replied, willing his hands from trembling. “We have several vacancies in one of the ocean view lodges. You’ll be staying in the Turtle Bay lodge, Suite 5B. Let’s go to the front desk and activate your key cards.”

Michael stopped him. “Oh, can you take a look at these two photos?” he said, reaching for his phone. “This one is an American woman who arrived from the States about eight weeks ago, and the second one is another American who travelled with her.”

Mr. Kumar looked at the pictures. “That’s not a very good photo, but no, I don’t think I’ve seen her. But him – he’s been in the restaurant several times and he gambles. A lot.”

“We like to gamble too,” Damien piped up. “What are the odds that we could run into him here?”

The manager looked up and understood immediately. “The casino is busiest Fridays and Saturdays. He reached into the top drawer of his drawer and pulled out two small manila envelopes. “Here at the Turtle Bay resort we want all our guests to be happy. There are some chips enclosed. Enjoy yourselves, gentlemen.”

 

Later, on their way back to their room, Damien laughed and Michael raised his eyebrows at him. “What’s so funny?”

“You. Me. Since the pandemic started, anyone with a gun is an Alpha Male. Man, look at this place. What is this place, a five-star resort? We could have never have afforded this place on a sergeant’s pay. I mean, shit, Mikey, that Kumar guy was practically shitting himself when he saw us walk into his office.”

“And that’s a good thing? To have people afraid of us?” Michael replied.

“Naw, that’s not what I meant, Mikey. I mean, the five-star treatment. The nice rooms, the free chips.”

“Maybe he was not scared of us, maybe our welcoming committee threatened him.”

“You think? So maybe your fellow Brit warned him off,” Damien shrugged. “But then why did he give up Levenson so quickly and not the woman?”

“I don’t know Damien, but I think if we find Levenson, we’ll find the woman. What’s today, Sunday?”

“So you’re saying we can wait until Friday and soak up the sun?”

“Urgency, Damien, urgency. There’s a pandemic going on in the world and you want to work on your tan?”

“Sure, why not? Levenson is not going anywhere, and if our mystery lady is here, neither is she. C’mon, Mikey, when was the last time we got a free all-expenses resort vacation paid for?”

“Think, Damien, think. Where would you go find a world-class medical researcher on a Caribbean island? Besides the bar.”

Damien barked out a laugh. “There’s a medical school on the island on the road to Basseterre, and then there’s the hospital in Basseterre,” he said, referring to the island’s capital.

“How did you know that?” Michael asked, surprised that Damien was one step ahead of him.

“Wikipedia, dude, and I found Basseterre on Google Maps. So, Mom, what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“We get up early and make ourselves presentable. We’re going to meet the Prime Minister.”

“So, does that mean we leave our assault rifles behind?”

Stonebridge looked at Damien in consternation and sniffed. “That means yes, we both get cleaned up, and we don’t scare the nice Prime Minister. OK? And you might want to tone down dropping the f-bombs.”

Damien laughed again, a sound that was halfway between a donkey’s bray and a witch’s cackle. “Mikey, I’ll race you back to our room. The first one’s there gets the shower.” He took off at lightening speed, which never failed to surprise Michael, considering the fact that he smoked like a demon and was lackadaisical in his approach towards fitness. All Michael could do was chase after Damien like a demented bird dog.

 

Having lost the challenge to Damien, Michael was stuck with unloading the equipment from the dinghy. That included two metal suitcases with communication tech inside, including a satellite phone as well as a laptop, extra ammunition and their gear. By the time he had finished, Damien came out of the shower, with a white towel around his waist. He lay down on the bed with a groan and looked at his partner. Michael thought he looked very tired with dark circles under his eyes.

“Hey, are you OK?” Michael asked.

Opening his blue eyes, Damien squinted, “Yeah, fine. I’m just getting old, that’s all. I left you some hot water.”

Michael sat down on Damien’s side of the bed and looked down at his friend and lover. Damien had put on a few pounds since their Section 20 days but none of it was fat, just rock hard muscle. His torso was covered with a mass of dark hair and scarred with mementos of all their missions. There was the scar from the bullet to the abdomen during one of their first missions in South Africa, the puckered wound in his right thigh from the terrorist attack at the Lotus Hotel and there were others too numerous to count. These Michael touched delicately as his fingers travelled up to Damien’s side where they traced the outline of the dragon tattoo.

“So does this mean you’re not angry with me anymore?” Damien asked hopefully. They had not had any privacy since they accepted the contract and flew to England to join the HMS Argyll.

“Hmmm, I don’t know. I’m still pissed at you,” Michael replied in a low, soft voice. “You said you were sorry and then - I don’t know whether to laugh to cry. I suppose it was inevitable.”

“No, Mikey, that’s not true. Sao Paulo wasn’t good for either of us. You weren’t happy there and I – I got distracted.” Damien looked away, unable to meet Michael’s steady gaze.

“That’s as much my fault as it was yours,” Michael said softly.

“No. Michael,” Damien looked at him. “The fault’s all mine. I own it completely. No one held a gun to my head and made me sleep with her.”

What Damien said made Michael realize why he fell in love with him in the first place. He was brave and generous and brutally honest about his faults with himself and anyone else. Underneath the bad ass, macho exterior was a man all too aware of his own failings. 

“Go take your shower, Michael,” Damien said, closing his eyes, using Michael’s full name for only the second time. He only did that when he was deadly serious about something he wanted to say. 

Michael proceeded to shed his clothes, dropping them on the floor as he walked away. Damien stared appreciatively at his toned body, neither too bulky nor too slim, just the right sort of lethal leanness that gave Michael a lithe flexibility, power and grace. He doesn’t know how goddam beautiful he is, Damien thought wistfully.

Once in the shower, Michael turned on the showerhead at full blast to drive the aching pain from his muscles after lugging all that heavy equipment off the dinghy. Grateful to be back on solid land, he thought about Section 20 and all the comrades who had fought and died alongside them. Only Kim Martinez made out alive the last time he checked and working in the El Paso district office of the DEA. Saying they were Section 20 was a tribute to his fellow soldiers although it was basically just Damien and himself. 

The shower curtain slid quietly open. Damien came up behind him, stepped in the tub and wrapped his powerful arms around Michael’s torso. His stubble scratched Michael on the shoulder and it started to send shivers up and down his spine.

“Did you miss this?” Damien rumbled in a low voice. “How does this compare to all the others?”

“There have been no others. No one.” Michael replied softly. Damien had every reason to believe that Michael wouldn’t lie about this. He craved intimacy but sex was a different thing altogether. He needed an emotional connection with someone in order to sleep with him – or her. In all the years that Damien knew him, Michael could count the number of people he had slept with on one hand and still have fingers to spare. Damien pressed himself against Michael and he heard him sigh. 

“Fuck,” Michael growled, “I promised myself this wouldn’t happen.”

Damien chuckled, reached around and grabbed Michael’s cock. It responded almost automatically. “Well, lucky for me, will power is highly overrated.” His hand ran the length of Michael’s considerable cock and started moving his hand up and down. He could feel Michael tense up and try to fight the urge.

“Damn you to hell,” Michael hissed. Then he gasped, “Christ” as he became harder and Damien’s touch became almost unbearable. 

“C’mere,” Damien whispered and Michael obliged, twisting around to face him. He then shoved Damien against the wall and kissed him roughly, his stubble scraping against the American’s skin. Damien’s mouth opened for Michael’s tongue for a skillful exploration. “I want you. Right here. Right now.”

“Nothing will change, will it?” Michael said bitterly.

“I never said it wouldn’t,” Damien replied.

“That’s hardly a solid yes.”

Damien responded by moving forward and kissing him tenderly on the collarbone. “We’ve been through too much to destroy this by sex. You know I love you like no one else ever did, even more so than Kate or Kerry. You know I would lay down my life for yours without hesitation, and I know you would do the same for me. Sex has never been a big deal for me. It’s been like a ---‘’

“A sneeze or a handshake?’’ Michael retorted.

“Well, I won’t go that far. But with you, it’s different, more intimate. So much more action, and less talk.”

“Less talk? Good. Turn around. Hands against the wall,” Michael commanded. “I’m tired of your yapping.” He shoved Damien against the shower wall and Damien let out a small ‘’oof ‘’ of surprise. Ripping open the shower curtain, Michael reached around and felt for something on the bathroom vanity. Coating his fingers on his left hand with lubricant, he held Damien in place with his right arm across the back of his neck. Reaching down without warning, he entered one finger in Damien’s sphincter, and started pulling it in and out. Damien gasped and thrust his hips to take in more of Michael’s finger. Then Michael inserted another finger and Damien moaned with pleasure. His head fell back and his eyes rolled.

“Fuck – Mikey,” Damien begged. “Keep doing whatever you’re doing.”

“Shut up,” Michael hissed. He withdrew his fingers and shoved Damien against the wall again. This time, he thrust his cock inside Damien, ramming it to the hilt. Damien protested, but Michael ignored him. He kept up a steady rhythm of pounding against flesh until Damien cried out.

“Whoa, slow down there, Mikey.”

Michael responded wordlessly by grabbing his hair and shoving his head against the shower tiles. His cock continued to thrust inside Damien who started to shake. Reaching around, he started to firmly stroke Damien’s cock, his hand sliding expertly over the head as it started to leak ejaculate.

This was the best, as Damien lost all awareness of his surroundings, save Michael and the flow of water. This is what he craved the most, that no one else in the world could give him the freedom from being, thinking, wanting or worrying. There was just him and Michael, and the rest of the world could have fucked off and gone to hell. The pounding inside him became faster and more insistent. Time melted away as Damien felt Michael starting to climax. 

Michael gasped loudly and arched his body, thrusting himself even further into Damien until his orgasm temporarily blackened his vision and caused him to sag against his American. He moaned and slowly withdrew from Damien as he turned around to face him. Damien kissed Michael forcefully: to surrender to someone who was an equal in physical strength and prowess was the ultimate turn-on. His partner straightened up and continued with the hand job as Damien kissed him. Damien could feel the orgasm coming, and when it did, he threw his head and groaned loudly. His release coated his and Michael’s stomachs and started to run down their legs. He gasped for air as the shower cleaned the come away in no time.

“Damn, I need that, Michael. God, I missed you. Too long, buddy, too long.” 

Michael pulled away and the guarded look shuttered any feeling his eyes might have betrayed. “How long was it? Two months, maybe three?”

“Two months, 22 days and 16 hours,” Damien replied, “And, yes, I have been keeping track. I missed you so much. It’s been fucking torture.”

Michael turned off the water and stepped out of the tub. He started to towel himself and threw another towel at Damien. “C’mon. Let’s get dressed. I’m starving.” Sgt. Stonebridge was back to business and this matter had been firmly shut down. It wasn’t a ‘no’, but the forgiveness wasn’t completely solidified. 

 

They picked at their pasta at the restaurant in the main building, their minds preoccupied with how to proceed tomorrow. Michael had changed into a light blue shirt that matched his eyes and wore dark trousers. Jesus, thought Damien, who brings business clothes along on a mission? Apparently Stonehenge. 

“Something bothering you, Mikey?”

The Englishman looked around at the restaurant. “It’s practically half full and it’s the height of the tourist season. This place must have been packed before the pandemic. How many people do you think this island has lost?”

Damien started to eat his spaghetti carbonara and tried, to Michael’s consternation, talking with his mouth full. “If the mortality rate is the same as any European country, then maybe 1,500 people died as a result of the virus.”

“But still,” Michael replied, “Not as bad as London.”

“Or Rio.”

Rio had descended into anarchy; the military took over and went through the favelas, methodically shooting anyone who looked remotely sick. The middle class locked themselves into their condos and the rich fled the country. The poor fought back against the army, spilling out of the slums, stealing anything and everything to stay alive. Sao Paolo was better organized with a heavier police and army presence, with soldiers deployed to guard the main government buildings, museums and libraries. The rich locked themselves away in their barricaded villas and behind their armed guards. The really rich fled in their private planes to islands in the Pacific where it was rumored the virus hadn’t touched. 

“What’s the game plan?”

“While you were in the shower, I contacted London. They were supposed to have contacted the Prime Minister here and let him know that we were coming.”

“So, that’s it?” Damien asked skeptically. “You think he’ll just cooperate, just like that?”

“If he understands the nature of the request, then he will,” Michael replied grimly. Damien just shook his head and was unnerved by the determined look on Stonebridge’s face. He reached for his glass of wine and emptied it, hoping it would calm his nerves.


	2. Day Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damien and Michael prepare for their meeting with the Prime Minister of St. Kitts and Nevis to get government permission to complete their mission. However, Damien gets waylaid by a mysterious illness while Michael finds a surprise.

Chapter Two

 

Waking up at his usual time of quarter to seven, Michael was ruthlessly cheerful as he woke Damien up.

“Rise and shine, princess. Time’s a-wasting. Our meeting is at nine-thirty.”

A hand rose from the duvet and gave Michael the one-finger salute. “Aww, Jesus. Fuck off, Mom.”

“That’s no way to talk to your Mum,” Michael smiled. “Come on, up with you. Time to shit, shower and get dressed.”

Speaking of shit, that’s exactly what Damien felt like. Glaring at his happy tormentor, Damien saw that Michael was dressed in a suit and ready to go. He put the coffee on and made Damien a cup already. He took it wordlessly from the Brit and slowly sipped it. Every bone in his body ached and he felt a hundred years old.

“Fuck, Mikey, how much did we drink last night?”

“I had two glasses of wine and you had two glasses. Then we left and had a beer each before we went to bed.” That amount of alcohol would hardly have an effect on them since they were both big men.

“Then why do I feel like I’ve been on a three-day bender?” Damien blearily regarded his partner.

Michael leaned over and felt his forehead with the back of his hand. He frowned.  
“You’re a little warm, mate. Come on take your shower. You’ll feel better.”

“Yes, Nurse Stimpy. Shit, my head hurts.” 

Michael dug around in his duffel bag and found some aspirin. “Here, take two of these.”

“Awww, thanks, honey. You’re the best wife a man could ask for.” To which Michael wordlessly flipped him the bird.

 

Gratefully swallowing the aspirin, Damien staggered to the bathroom. Michael asked, “Do you have anything clean to wear?”

Damien shot him a dirty look. “Of course, I do. I did a wash before we left. I’m not a complete barbarian, y’know.”

To Damien’s surprise and horror, Michael found an ironing board and an iron in the closet. He pulled out a clean but wrinkled pair of cargo pants and a plaid gray shirt in Damien’s duffel bag.

“Seriously, Mikey? We’re going to see the prime minister of a Caribbean nation; we haven’t been invited to a garden party at Buckingham Palace.”

Michael gave him a reproachful look. “He’s still a prime minister. Treat him with respect. Chances are he’ll agree to our request if we show up not looking thoroughly disreputable.”

Damien thought this was the perfect opportunity to needle him again. “Awww, sweetie. You’re the best!”

Michael had the ironing board set up and was ready to start ironing the shirt he picked out for Damien. “Fuck off, you arsehole.”

“Thanks, Mom!”

 

Wedging their large frames into the back seat of a taxi minivan, Michael simply said “Government House, please” and the taxi driver nodded. He looked at his partner, worried. They left all their weaponry in their room in case they were searched going in to see the Prime Minister. But the meeting with the PM wasn’t what concerned Michael.

Damien picked at his breakfast. He complained about the pancakes being tasteless and pushed them aside. He ordered scrambled eggs and only managed a few mouthfuls before whining that they were like rubber. Wanting to order a beer at eight in the morning, Damien was convinced by Michael that it was better not to smell like a tavern when meeting with a Prime Minister. Now sitting in the backseat with Michael, he literally looked greyish green. As the taxi sped away from the resort on the only main road into Basseterre, the taxi driver looked at the rear view mirror.

“Hey, mister, do you need me to stop? Do you need to get out?”

“Naw, that’s alright. I’m fine. I won’t get sick, I promise.”

“Are you sure, Damien?” Michael asked.

“Just roll down the window. I just need some fresh air.”

A few minutes into their ride, something caught Damien’s eye and his head snapped around to take a good look. He saw a boy, a little boy no older than eight or ten at the most, kicking what looked like a dirty white soccer ball, but the ball rolled funny. It wasn’t a ball. The boy looked up and waved at the taxi, and gave Damien a feral grin. 

“Shit,” Damien hissed under his breath. 

“What is it?” Michael could see Damien was very pale.

“Did you see that?”

“See what?”

Damien turned around to look backwards and got Michael to do the same. “The little boy with the ball.”

Michael shook his head. “There’s no one there. I see no one.”

Damien looked back a third time. “I could have sworn ---“

“That does it, after our meeting with the PM, you’re go to A & E to get checked out.” Michael said with finality.

The taxi continued on its way towards Basseterre, only a couple of miles away.

 

Arriving at Government House, they got out and paid the driver. He handed Michael his business card with his name and number on it.

“I think you’ll need a driver to take you to the hospital. I can wait. If I’m not here, call me. The name’s Smokey.”

“Will this do?” Michael asked, handing Smokey a twenty-dollar bill.

“I’ll wait.” 

Entering the building, Michael and Damien presented themselves at the reception. The receptionist called and motioned towards them. “Go up to the third floor. The Prime Minister’s Office is the first on the right.”

They went to the elevators only to have the receptionist call after them.

“The lift is broken. We’re waiting on repairs. You’ll have to take the stairs.”

Michael looked concerned at Damien. He wasn’t that peculiar shade of green-grey any more, but he swayed a little. “Can you make it?”

Damien smiled weakly. “Sure, Mikey.”

“You go first. I’ll be right behind you in case ---“

They made it to the top only to be stopped by a very large man who towered over both soldiers.

“Sgt. Stonebridge, Sgt. Scott, this way please. Arms up.”

Both men looked at each other wordlessly but complied as they were quickly frisked. It was a good thing Michael said no weapons, Damien thought.

“It’s just a precaution,” the bodyguard said apologetically. Michael smiled and nodded.

“We have a 9:30 appointment with the Prime Minister.”

The secretary gestured towards the chairs in the reception area. “If you’d like to take a seat, the Prime Minister will be with you in a moment.” She barely finished her words when a trim, slender man stepped out of the office. He wore gold-rimmed glasses and regarded the two men intensely. Michael’s brain went blank for a moment but Damien leaned over and whispered, “Dr. Douglas.”

They stood up and shook hands. The PM had a strong handshake and ushered the two men into his brightly lit office.

“Prime Minister Douglas,” Michael said deferentially, “My name is Michael ---‘’

Dr. Douglas waved them both to sit down. “Yes, I know who you are. You’re Sgt. Michael Stonebridge formerly of the SAS, British Army, and – ‘’, his eyes narrowed as he looked at Damien, “you are Sgt. Damien Scott, once with Delta Force, U.S. Army. You now work as private contractors, and you are on a mission from the British government.”

“Private contractors,” Michael repeated, “Private military contractors.”

“Ah, yes,” Dr. Douglas smiled, leaning back in his chair, “I never liked dealing in euphemisms. When I hear the word ‘contractor’, I think of someone you call to fix your house, like a plumber or a carpenter. You’re mercenaries. Call it for what it is.”

“Sir,’’ Damien piped up, “We’re not ordinary mercenaries – and we do have the backing of the British government.” There was no threat implied in that statement: it was purely factual.

Dr. Douglas continued to smile, sweeping some non-existent dust off his desk. “Gentlemen, last night I got a call from the Commander of the HMS Argyll, who informed me that you were coming and that cooperation from the St. Kitts government would be greatly appreciated.” He leaned over for emphasis at the two men. “Are you aware of the agreement that this government has with the British government?”

Michael nodded. “Yes, sir, I am. The agreement states that the Royal Navy patrols the waters of the former British colonies to monitor the passing of any marine vessel, and make interdictions and arrests for drug smuggling, if need be.”

“Exactly, Sgt. Stonebridge,” the Prime Minister replied crisply. “A vestige of our colonial past, but one for which we are profoundly grateful. Drugs are responsible for the majority of violent crime throughout the Caribbean. But St. Kittians are a proud people. We are a small island nation, but we are a sovereign nation. I will not tolerate the harassment or the harming of any St. Kittian in pursuit of the completion of your mission. Is that clear?”

Michael nodded, “Yes, sir. Abundantly clear.”

“So then I will remind you that we still have the death penalty on this island.” The dark eyes of the Prime Minister bore into Michael, fixing him to his chair. There was an awkward pause, but Dr. Douglas smiled warmly, breaking the tension in the room. “But I’m sure you will accomplish your task with no St. Kittian blood being spilt since you are both highly trained elite soldiers. The person in question is a foreigner and violation of sovereignty is a moot point so she can be removed.”

“And Dr. Levenson ---‘’ Michael asked.

“There was no mention of Dr. Levenson in the removal request, but the man is worth nothing if he doesn’t have Patient X.”

“Patient X? Does she have a name?” asked Michael.

“Yes, she does, but she was granted temporary refugee status under the name on her passport so it’s probably a false one. Cara Wilson.”

“Was Dr. Levenson granted refugee status under a false name too?

Dr. Douglas smiled briefly. “I can see where you are going with this one, Sgt. Stonebridge. No, he used his own name, but rest assured that the deal that St. Kitts and Nevis made with him does not supersede the deal that we have with the British. However, you cannot use force or threats of violence to persuade Miss Wilson to leave with you. That will be her decision to make and hers alone.” The Prime Minister got up from his desk and walked over to Damien.

“Sgt. Scott, when did you start feeling sick?” He leaned over Damien and gently touched the sides of his neck.

“Yesterday afternoon, when we arrived, I felt really tired like I hadn’t slept. When I woke up this morning, I ached all over.”

“Chills, headaches, any nausea?”

“Nausea this morning. I had to force myself to eat breakfast.”

“And he usually hoovers up anything in sight,” Michael replied.

“You’re going to the hospital, young man,” Dr. Douglas said firmly. “To get checked out. You may have the virus; you might not. You haven’t any respiratory distress yet so that’s a good sign. You too, Sgt. Stonebridge, you need to get checked out too.” 

He pressed a button and the bodyguard walked in, literally filling up the entire doorframe. “Joseph, please escort these two gentlemen to the hospital. Make sure they check in and stay there until they have both seen a doctor.”

“Yes, Prime Minister.”

“Prime Minister,” Michael turned around. “Do you have any idea where Patient X could be?”

“There are research labs at the hospital in the basement. There are also some over at the medical school, off the main road.”

 

Joseph helped Damien downstairs who had wobbled a bit. Smokey was waiting but grimaced when he saw Joseph. “Hey, these are my paying customers! Are you going to take money out of a man’s wallet?”

Joseph made an annoyed tsk-tsk sound. “I have my orders from the PM. He wants me to escort them to the hospital, and maybe you should go too.”

“I’m fine, young man. I’ve been around sick people before. I won’t die.”

Joseph shook his head as he opened the doors of a black SUV with the crest of St. Kitts and Nevis affixed to the door. “That’s my brother-in-law’s uncle. He’s as stubborn as a herd of goats.”

 

Michael explained what was wrong – physically – with Damien to the woman at the reception desk at the hospital, but Joseph interrupted. “These men need to see a doctor NOW. The Prime Minister’s orders.” Only a couple of minutes had passed and two men, fully gowned, wearing gloves, goggles and facemasks, came out with two wheel chairs.

Shit, this is serious, thought Michael as they sat in the chairs and were wheeled to examination bays. A few moments later, a senior physician and a nurse came over and took their vitals. They both wordlessly and efficiently noted the blood pressure and temperatures of both men on their charts. Then the doctor put a stethoscope to Michael’s back and ordered him to breathe deeply. He did the same to Damien who protested a little. 

The doctor returned to Michael, pulled down his mask and shook his hand. “My name is Dr. Vharma. Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

“There’s good news?” Michael asked, puzzled.

“Your temperature is normal, your blood pressure is fine and your lungs are clear. I would guess you may not have the flu virus, but I want to run a blood test to check for antibodies. That’s the only way I can tell if you’ve been exposed to the virus. So I’d like to keep you here until the results of the blood work come back.”

“And what’s the bad news?”

“Your friend here – ‘’, Dr. Vharma gestured. “He’s a mystery. Mr. Scott is running a slight temperature, but his lungs are clear. His blood pressure is slightly elevated and he’s dehydrated. I want to keep him in for observation for the next couple of days in case other symptoms develop, but I am cautiously optimistic that he is not infected either. Have either of you been to the States recently?”

“No, we came here by way of the HMS Argyll yesterday.”

“But before that?”

“We flew to London from Brazil.” The doctor nodded and jotted that in the charts as well. “Sao Paolo.”

“When was that?”

“Two and a half weeks ago.”

“That’s good. The Brazilian government seems to have a better handle on the virus in Sao Paolo than in Rio. Incubation periods can vary from a couple of days to a fortnight depending on the virus. Flu viruses usually only take a couple of days, but what this may not be a flu virus so therein lies the mystery.”

“How long should the results of the blood test take?”

“We should have them back in a couple of hours. In the meantime, you can wait here with your friend.”

Michael slid off the bed and went over to the bay where Damien was. To his surprise, Damien was already in a hospital gown, hooked up to an IV.

“Hey, Mikey. It looks like I’ve been admitted. Fuck me – ‘’

Michael sat down in the chair besides him. “Better safe than sorry.’’

“Yeah, yeah, but this isn’t how I thought I’d be spending my time in St. Kitts. The mission ---‘’

“Fuck the mission,” Michael replied bluntly, “Once my blood work clears, I’ll look for the labs. I’ll find her, don’t you worry.’’

Damien lay back on the bed, looking haggard and exhausted. “I’m worried, Mikey.”

“Don’t be,” Michael lowered his voice and held Damien’s hand in his, trying to calm him down. “We beat worse than this, remember? We beat Ebola. This is just a walk in the park for us. Just rest and go to sleep. Do you want a sedative?”

Damien smiled slowly. “Naw, I could nod off right now. You didn’t tell the doc about us surviving Ebola?”

“No, I didn’t and neither will you. The last thing I want is to be stuck in a bloody quarantine for God knows how long. I don’t know how the authorities will react to the news of two Ebola survivors on their island. Mum’s the word, OK?”

Michael leaned over, and fuck it, he didn’t care who saw him: he kissed Damien tenderly on the lips. Some day, they could live their lives truly free, without worrying about showing affection towards each other in public without sneers or threats of violence, but that had to wait. They had to save the world first.

“Go to sleep, my love,” the hardened Englishman whispered to the one man he loved more than anything else in the world. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

 

Michael was still watching over Damien as he slept when Dr. Vharma came back.

“Mr. Stonebridge,’’ the doctor smiled. “I have your test results back. Good news. You are free of the virus. Your blood didn’t even show traces of any antibodies.”

“Please call me Michael,” he said, sighing in relief. “What about Damien?’’

“No trace of the virus, but he is dehydrated and exhausted. He hasn’t been under a lot of stress lately, has he?”

“Damien is the type who likes to be a happy go lucky sort of guy. He doesn’t like to show the world his problems. But on the way to Government House in the cab, I thought he was hallucinating.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He said he saw a little boy kicking a ball. But it wasn’t a ball. He looked as pale as a ghost in the car. When I turned around to see the boy, there was nothing there.”

The doctor smiled patiently. “Sometimes when a person is dehydrated, there is a lot of mental confusion. Did he drink any alcohol within the past 24 hours?”

“We had two glasses of wine each with our meal last night and afterwards we had one beer. That’s hardly what I would call a binge.”

Damien started to stir and sat up suddenly as if he forgot momentarily where he was. “Jesus, where am-----‘’

“You’re here at the hospital in Basseterre – with me. It’s alright, it’s going to be alright.’’ Michael went over to Damien’s side to reassure him. “The doctor has good news.”

“The blood work came back: you’re negative for the antibodies to the virus,” said Dr. Vharma.

Hearing this, Damien swung his legs off the bed and reached for his pants. “Great, I guess that means I can get out of here now.”

Michael restrained him while Dr. Vharma motioned Damien to wait. “But, Sgt. Scott, you are still running a slight fever and you are dehydrated. You need to stay in for at least a day or two.”

“Seriously?” Damien was ready to cut loose with a foul-mouthed barrage, but Michael waggled his finger at him.

“Just think, Damien, you’ll be able to practice the famous Damien Scott charm on a section of the world’s female population that has never heard of how really bad you are in bed.”

Damien gave his partner the one-finger salute. He reluctantly climbed back into bed, while grumbling under his breath. Thankfully, an orderly appeared. 

“A room is now available for you, Sgt. Scott,” the doctor said.

The grumbling continued as Michael picked up Damien’s clothes in the plastic bag that was provided and followed the orderly with Damien. He felt truly relieved and happy that it wasn’t as bad as he feared. Once Damien was ensconced in his room, Michael would go looking for Patient X.

 

After Damien was installed in his hospital room while receiving several threats of violence from his partner if he didn’t stay put, Michael did a little exploring of his own. Damien had a private room on the third floor of the new hospital wing, and as hospitals go, he had been in far worse shape in far worse hospitals. Michael could relax and stop worrying about Damien: he was receiving the best possible care. His stomach started growling loudly and he looked at his watch. Noontime: time to eat. He headed towards the lift and almost collided with the very large Joseph.

“So you’ve been checked out?” Joseph said without preamble, like more of a command than a question.

“Yes, I’m fine, but Dr. Vharma admitted Damien.” Joseph looked very worried. “The blood tests came back, no sign of the virus, but he’s running a slight fever and he’s dehydrated so the doctor just wants to keep him for a couple of days. The hospital’s very nice; Damien’s lucky to be in such good hands.”

Joseph beamed a perfectly white smile. Apparently, the hospital was a source of pride for St. Kittians. It didn’t hurt to play the role of the diplomat here, Michael thought.

“Do you know where the cafeteria is? I’m starving.”

“The cafeteria is on the first floor, but it’s crowded at lunchtime. There’s also a gift shop near the main lobby, it sells snacks and such.”

Michael thanked the bodyguard and they went their separate ways. He made a show of walking to the cafeteria and then continued past it reaching the exit sign at the end of the hallway. There was a flight of six steps then a landing to a glass door to the outside that was alarmed. There was a staff parking lot by the exit. Looking up over the doorway, there were no security cameras on the inside above the landing. He descended the next flight of stairs and pushed open the door to the basement.

The sign across from him had one word on it, “Morgue.” Michael walked softly and quickly down the corridor. Twenty feet down and there was a set of double metal doors with high set windows. Because of his height, he had no problem looking in: there must be some mistake; this didn’t look like a morgue. It looked like a lab of some sort with glass-fronted refrigerators filled with test tubes and blood samples in racks. There were expensive looking electron microscopes on the counter tops, something which looked like a flow hood and other scientific equipment. It must have been a large white room divided in two by a glass wall and what appeared to be an isolation chamber. From his angle of vision, Michael couldn’t see anything more. There was someone in there moving around. He tried pushing through the doors, but they were bolted. He rapped on the door, and whatever movement was in the lab stopped.

Whoever was in there came over to get a good look at him or tried to. The person was very short – it was a woman – and whoever she was, she had to stand on her tiptoes to get a good look at Michael. She was a brunette and looked to be in her thirties. Holding up one finger to signal him to wait, she disappeared. A few moments later, she came back and held up a small plastic card. She jimmied the lock on the doors and the bolt snapped back.

Looking up at Michael was a very friendly face, and a pretty one too. Two large brown eyes stared at him. The woman appeared to be in her late thirties, with dark shoulder length hair. 

“You must be with the drug company,” she said by way of an introduction. “Adam – er – Dr. Levenson had to run an errand, but he’ll be back after one.”

“My name’s Michael,” he replied. No point of telling her the complete truth yet: that might scare her off. “You must be Cara. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

The woman looked surprised. “Adam’s pretty tight-lipped about my identity. He’s paranoid about mercenaries grabbing me and holding me for ransom.”

Michael tried to think fast, but if she found out about him from Levenson, any trust between them and any chance of her going willingly with him would be destroyed.

“The Prime Minister told me about you. Dr. Douglas is under the impression that Cara is not your real name,” Michael said hesitantly.

Cara’s eyes widened. “No, it isn’t. But my real name is none of your concern. You’re not with the drug company, are you?”

“No,” he replied. “I am here on behalf of the British government. They – we – need your help. Can I come in? I’ll tell everything you want to know.” He stood quietly there, looking at Cara. Her eyes narrowed and she opened the door to let him pass.  
“OK – but on one condition.” Cara ran over to one of the lab benches and pulled out her purse, withdrawing some cash. “Could you get me something to eat? I’m starving. Not the swill in the cafeteria: there’s a café in the lobby of the hospital. They have sandwiches there. Get some chocolate bars and some drinks too. No diet stuff please.”

Michael suppressed the urge to laugh. “Copy that; give me ten minutes.” She let him out of the lab, and he walked away, shaking his head in wonder and amusement.

He came back a short while later, carrying a plastic bag stuffed with sandwiches, chocolate bars and two drinks. A magazine was also among his purchases: there was no TV set in the lab and she must have been bored out of her mind being cooped up in here.

Cara seemed delighted with the magazine as he handed her a ham and cheese sandwich. “So if you’re not with Venetrix Pharma, what do you do?”

Michael had the good sense to be embarrassed and smiled bashfully. “I’m a soldier or I used to be – with the British Army. I worked in a counterterrorism unit and a few years ago I retired. I have or I had a business in Brazil with my partner as a security consultant, you know, helping rich people secure their property.”

“Humanitarian work, then,” Cara interjected sarcastically. Michael liked her already.

“When the pandemic started, we were contacted by the British government to find and retrieve a high value target.”

“A terrorist?” 

Was she that unaware of how valuable she was, Michael wondered? “No, not a terrorist. You.”

Cara stopped eating her sandwich. “So, Adam wasn’t being paranoid.”

Michael ran his hand through his hair, studying his shoes. “No, he wasn’t - you’re quite valuable. Mercenaries are trying to get to you so they can claim you as a multi-million dollar prize.”

Cara put her sandwich aside and stared him down. “Are you here to claim me too?” she asked coldly.

“I was hired to find you and convince you to come back to Britain with us – my partner and I. The longer you stay here, the more attention you will attract. Levenson or the St. Kittian government does not have the resources to keep you safe. You are a target. People are desperate – this pandemic has already wiped out 2% of the world’s population and the mortality rate is near 100%. You can’t go back home to the U.S.”

“I know that,” Cara replied bitterly. “But what guarantee can you give me that I won’t wind up in a secure facility on a British army base or I won’t be locked up against my will?”

“I can’t give you any guarantee that it won’t happen. After the pandemic is finished, I’m sure that - ”

“Mister – what is your name?” 

“Michael Stonebridge. Sergeant Stonebridge.”

“Sergeant Stonebridge, do you know why I am so special?” 

Michael shook his head. “You survived the virus? That’s almost unheard of.”

“Yes, that’s right, I survived the virus. But I hardly got sick – I mean, I was sick with what seemed to be a bad flu, but after a few days, I was fine again. There are other survivors of the virus, but they still haven’t recovered completely yet. I am the only known one who has made a full recovery.”

If Damien were with them right now, he would have said ‘fuck me.’

“But there’s another reason why I am so special. Sgt. Stonebridge, have you ever heard of ‘golden blood’?”

Michael shook his head. “No, what’s that?”

“You’ve heard of Rh positive and Rh negative, right? Well, I’m neither: I’m Rh null. My blood contains none of the known 61 antigens that blood normally has. That means I can donate to anyone, regardless of his or her blood type. Do you know how rare Rh null blood is?”

“One in a million?”

“No,” Cara said with grim finality. “There’s only been 43 documented cases of people with Rh null blood since it was discovered in 1961. Before the pandemic, there were only about 10 documented cases of golden blood in existence. Now – I may be the only one left.”

“You’re probably the only one left who survived the pandemic.”

Cara crossed her arms and tilted her chin up to him. It seemed an odd gesture of defiance, but Michael was beginning to warm to her. She wasn’t afraid of him.

“And I can’t get hurt either. If I need surgery, the only blood I can take is my own blood type.”

“I promise you, Miss Wilson, I won’t let you get hurt or grabbed by anyone else,” Michael reassured her quietly. “As soon as my partner gets released from the hospital, we’ll get you out of here.”

Cara thought for a moment. “How bad is it – England right now?”

“Pretty bad.” Michael swallowed the last of his drink. “Martial law has just been put in place and the army is keeping London from descending into complete anarchy. The hospitals have been swamped with the sick and the dying, and all the morgues have filled up quickly. There’s talk of the virus mutating and there are teams of scientists working around the clock to come up with a vaccine. That’s why you are needed there. You can accomplish a lot more with hundreds of scientists there than just one here.”

Cara smiled. “Okay, Sgt. Stonebridge. You’ve got me convinced. When do we go?”

“Damien – my partner – is in the hospital for dehydration and he’s got a slight fever. The doctor wants to keep an eye on him in case – ‘’

“No, he doesn’t have it,” Cara said with confidence. “If he did, he’d be dead right now.” She carefully took the sandwich wrappers and the empty soda cans and put them in the plastic bag. “Thanks for lunch, but you’ll have to go. Dr. Levenson will be back soon. Besides I won’t be able to leave until the weekend.”

“Why is that?”

“Every Monday afternoon, the good doctor injects me with a new virus to see how my body will react. Then a couple of days later, he takes samples of my blood and checks the anti-viral load.”

Michael thought for a moment: he wanted a quick exfil but with Damien in the hospital, that was out of the question.

“Sgt. Stonebridge, is there a problem? ”Cara asked concerned.

“I was hoping to get you out of here today, but that’s not going to happen with Damien sick. You can’t tell Levenson about us, Cara. He’ll try to move you if you do.”

“Then, you should go, and take the garbage with you,” Cara handed him the bag and then opened the lab’s doors. “He’ll be back soon.”

Michael turned to go out the door, but stopped. “Does he ever leave the lab while you’re in here?”

“He goes to business meetings with his backers to try to convince them to invest their money in monopolizing production of a vaccine. They’re usually two hour liquid lunches with American pharmaceutical executives,” Cara replied, the distaste in her voice quite evident. “There are facilities in Trinidad where millions of doses of the vaccine could be manufactured in a week or so. He’s hoping for a multi-million dollar deal.”

“So where does that leave you?” Michael asked quietly.

“Exploited. I don’t want a lot, but I’m tired of all this,” Cara gestured, indicating the lab. “I want to do more than survive, I want to live. That’s why I agreed to go with Adam in the first place. I was cooped up at the CDC and then things went to hell in a hand basket really fast. He said to me, ‘How would you like to see the Caribbean?’ I said sure, but I never thought I’d spend my time a virtual prisoner here. But I couldn’t go anywhere, not with Adam or Edward constantly watching me.”

“You know Edward?” Michael asked, surprised.

“Know him? Of course, I do. Edward knows everything about everyone on this island. He knew about you the moment you set foot on the beach, and he knew why you were here. You can’t sneeze or fart sideways without Edward knowing about it. Adam told me about you two, but of course I got the Levenson side of the story. I’m surprised I wasn’t moved.” She glanced up at the clock. “He’s due back any moment now. You have to go now!” Cara pushed Michael out of the lab and firmly shut the doors behind him. 

Michael heard two men talking on the landing at the top of the stairs. He couldn’t go back the way he came so he headed down the hall and turned right. The morgue was on his left and a radio inside was playing gospel tunes. There was an elevator at the end of the hallway and Michael waited anxiously for the doors to open. When the elevator ascended, he found himself back on the first floor of the new hospital wing. What a story he would have to tell Damien, Michael thought.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael discovers Patient X, why she is so special, but Damien's on-going health emergency complicates things!

Michael went back up to the third floor, bursting with excitement to tell Damien that he found Patient X. He collided with a very formidable looking nurse who stopped him dead in his tracks.

“You can’t go in there,” she scolded Michael, “That’s an isolation room: you have to put on protective gear.” He reluctantly put on a disposable gown, cap, gloves, goggles and facemask: he didn’t want to freak Damien out.

Walking into the room, Michael found Damien sitting up in bed, stifling a laugh.

“Aren’t you a sight? Nurse Ratched made you get suited up.”

Michael pulled down the facemask. “Well, it was either that or shout my news from the hallway.”

Damien’s eyes lit up. “Ha! You found her! It’s a her, right?”

“Yup, it’s definitely a her.” Michael said, lowering his voice. “You’ve got your own private room.”

“That’s what ‘isolation’ means, Mikey. What’s she like? Is she hot?”

Michael sighed in exasperation. Leave it to Damien in the middle of a pandemic to think about their target as a ‘hottie.’ His inner thirteen year old came out to play. 

“She’s pretty – I guess – not gorgeous. She’s this tall,” he said, gesturing with his hand.

“Blonde, redhead or brunette?”

Michael opened his mouth to answer the question, and then he realized the garden path Damien was leading him down. He was ready to swear at the American, but he knew Damien would swat his anger away like a fly.

“Why?” Michael asked, half-irritated. “Do you want to ask her out?”

Damien gave Michael a confounded look. “Sure, why not? If she’s pretty –‘’

Michael rolled his eyes. “Why limit yourself to one pretty girl? Why not just sleep with all the women in St. Kitts so no one will get their feelings hurt and feel left out?”

Damien held up one finger. “Some people might call me promiscuous: I like to think of myself as generous. But there’s one woman here I wouldn’t touch.” 

He gestured towards the hallway. “Nurse Ratched threatened me with a catheter! Can you imagine that?”

Michael sat down, exhausted by the bantering. “Let’s get back to business. We can’t grab Patient X until the weekend. Dr. Levenson injects her with a new virus on Mondays to see how her body will react.”

“Fuck me,” Damien said, shaking his head. “Lovely. She’s a guinea pig for his experiments.”

“Yes, that just about sums it up,” Michael said with a grim look. “I think she’s ready to bolt. I don’t think Levenson has a clue what he’s doing. He spends a lot of time with some executives from an American drug company called Venetrix Pharma. They have a manufacturing plant in Trinidad. Cara said they’re trying to come up with a vaccine to the virus within a month or two.”

“That sounds like a really impossible time frame,” Damien said, shaking his head, “So our patient will be good to go by the weekend. You should radio the Argyll and let the Commander know.”

“I will,” Michael said tiredly. “This feels like the longest day of my life. So much has happened in the past twenty-four hours.”

“Look, don’t worry about me. Just go back to the hotel and get some rest. You did good today. You found the girl. Now all we have to do is get her off the island and back to England.”

“How are you feeling? Do you still have a temperature?” Michael asked worried.

“I’m still a little warm, but at least I’m not hallucinating.” Damien seemed very chipper for a man who looked like he was going to throw up all over a Prime Minister only a few hours ago. “Go home, Mikey, go home and let me dream about our mystery girl.”

“Is there anything I can get you before I leave?” Michael asked.

“Something to read. I’m bored out of my skull already: the TV doesn’t work.”

“I’ll see what I can get,” Michael replied. “It’s mostly women’s magazines down in the gift shop. Would you mind Cosmo?”

Damien grinned wickedly. “Sure, I like reading the articles and the quizzes on sex. You know, the ones like ‘The Ten Best Sex Positions to Drive Your Man Wild’.”

Michael glowered and then quipped. “I don’t think reading Cosmo is going to improve your performance in bed. If there’s no Cosmo, I guess you’ll have to settle for Vogue.”

Damien, pouting, threw himself back on the pillows. “Then Vogue it is.”

 

Michael finally got back to the hotel at around four. He was glad to get out of the suit and wear his regular clothes. Looking out the window, he couldn’t see the dinghy where he put it. Shit, who the fuck moved it? Tucking his sidearm into his jeans waistband behind him, Michael went out to investigate where the dinghy was.

“ Relax, Sgt. Stonebridge,” a familiar voice called out. “It’s over here.” Edward was sitting down in a lounge chair, sipping a gin and tonic. I found some local kids playing on it so I chased them off. They got the message.”

Michael trudged over the sand to where the mercenary was. “Thanks. That’s our transport off the island.”

“How did your meeting go with Prime Minister Douglas?”

“Good. He was very agreeable and he gave us the go-ahead to complete our mission.”

“Where’s your friend?”

“Damien’s in the hospital: they’re keeping him overnight for observation. He was just dehydrated, that’s all.” Edward stiffened when he saw Michael look at him, menacingly. “But you knew that already, don’t you? Just like you knew all about us the moment we set foot on dry land.”

The older man showed a modicum of regret. “Look, I’m sorry about the lies. But my job here is to ensure that no one shows up here trying to get to the modern equivalent of the Holy Grail. I didn’t know who you were, so I made a few calls to some contacts in the M.O.D. and they, more or less, confirmed what I suspected.”

“And what was that?” Michael asked sharply. 

“That you – and your friend – are the real deal. You’re one of the best soldiers to come out of the SAS in a generation, and Sgt. Scott worked for our friends in Langley after being framed for drug dealing in Iraq. Sit down, Sgt. Stonebridge, and have a drink with me.” Edward said wearily, gesturing towards a chair. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

 

The sun was setting on the other side of the island as the two men sat in quiet conversation over dinner in the restaurant by the beach, staring out at the dark waters of the churning Atlantic. Somewhere two thousand miles beyond the horizon was Africa. 

Edward contemplated the dregs of his drink. “So that’s my story, how I ended up here. I was away from the UK for nearly thirty years and when I finally got back, London didn’t even feel like my home anymore. I came down here on vacation when the epidemic started, and that’s when the rumors started about a woman whose blood could cure anything. Mercenaries started coming in by hired boat so I contacted the Prime Minister and offered my services. He was desperate – St. Kitts has a reserve force of about 300 people, but they’re really police officers with some military training.”

“So you were able to beef up their training – ‘’, Michael interjected. 

“I was able to pick 50 good men and women and teach them some hand to hand combat and some sniper tactics. My methods and tactics are harsh, but we’ve managed to keep the scum out. We hadn’t had any visitors for nearly two weeks until you showed up.”

“My mission hasn’t changed, “ said Michael. “We still need to get the patient off this island. You can either help us or stand aside.” 

A curious light shone from Edward’s eyes: it had a chilling effect on the younger man. “You’ll need me to get to Cara. I have one condition.”

“Okay, what’s that?”

“Take me with you. Your dinghy can hold four people – if you ditch some equipment – but there’s no way it can hold five adults plus the equipment. Let me take care of Dr. Levenson.”

Michael nodded and didn’t say a word. He immediately understood the implications of what Edward said. “But we can’t leave until Damien gets out of the hospital.”

“Well, when he does, you’ll only have a couple of hours to get Cara off the island. Venetrix employs mercenaries of their own to do their dirty work. They could fly in and land on Nevis, and take a boat over.”

Michael thought back to the Prime Minister’s warning that no civilians should get hurt. He then decided to tell Edward about when Levenson would inject a new virus into Cara.

“I never thought the damn fool would go ahead and do it,” the mercenary said with a tone of disgust in his voice.

“Do what?” Michael replied. “Inject her with a new virus?”

“Not just any virus. The virus. Ebola.”

“Shit,” Michael muttered. “Why?”

Edward shrugged. “He said something about her blood was very unusual, not just the fact that it was Rh null or that she survived the virus. He checked her blood for antibodies to other diseases and found out she had the remnants of antibodies to diseases that have been extinct in the human population for a long, long time.”

“ What kind of diseases?”

“Like the Spanish flu from 1918. I mean that’s not possible,” Edward replied disbelieving. “Levenson is a nutter. I’m no scientist, but doesn’t that mean she would have lived during that time?”

Michael shook his head, thoroughly confused. “I’m the last one on this island you should be asking. So her blood really does make her the Holy Grail.”

“Levenson thinks he can make a super medicine out of her blood and make billions off it.”

“So that’s why he’s been spending so much time with the Venetrix executives,” Michael replied.

Edward raised one eyebrow. “Really, who told you that?”

“Cara did,” Michael replied. “Apparently the good doctor has had several business lunches with these people. Venetrix has a manufacturing plant in Trinidad. Once he finds a way of harnessing the antibodies from Cara’s blood, they can start production of a vaccine within a month.”

There was a ghost of an expression that flitted across the other man’s face who avoided looking Stonebridge in the eyes. Then it was gone as quickly as it appeared. 

“It seems, Sgt. Stonebridge, that you have had a busy day and you must be very tired. Let’s call it a night.” 

Edward raised his hand to signal the waiter over to bring the bill. Michael had secretly hoped that the other Englishman wasn’t gaming both sides against each other to come up with the best possible deal for himself. With a bland face, Michael made a show of gratitude and went back to his room. 

 

Back in his room, Michael laid on the bed exhausted, not bothering to get undressed. He still had to make a call to the Argyll’s commander to give him an update. Setting up the satellite phone, Michael dialed the commander’s direct number, thinking he would have retired to his cabin for the night. Commander Munroe seemed as tired as Michael felt, but his voice was crisp and authoritative. Michael told him that Damien was hospitalized: it was then that the pause in the commander’s voice gave Stonebridge concern. 

“That’s a negative on a return to the Argyll, Sergeant. Three crewmembers have been hospitalized with a sudden fever. They have been quarantined until further notice. Our medic has been unable to ascertain the nature of the illness. You are not to return to the Argyll until we know what we are dealing with. Repeat you are not to return until further notice. Is that understood, Sergeant?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Call again tomorrow night for an update.”

“Understood, sir.”

As Michael hung up, he felt overwhelmed and worried. To his surprise, he started to tear up. He was suddenly overcome by sudden panic and dread: something is happening to Damien, he convinced himself. He reached over and looked at the alarm clock: 9:45pm. He could call the hospital and try to get through to Damien, but stopped himself. He’s asleep, you idiot, leave him be. The last thing Damien needed right now was a phone call from his weeping lover. Stop it, Michael commanded himself not to cry. You’re not doing anyone any good. Be brave for his sake.

He sat up, got off the bed and started to undress. He had to think things through for the few days. If Damien was better tomorrow, then he would probably be released and then they could go after Levenson and get Cara. If he wouldn’t be released, they would wait. Michael was distinctly uneasy about relying on Edward for anything: he could be telling Levenson right now of their plans to rescue Patient X. Better wait and take one hour at a time, if need be. With that, Michael turned off the lights, said a short prayer for Damien and fell fast asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Damien are forced into action by Levenson doing an end-run around them. Edward is drafted into the rescue operation.

 

Rising early in the morning, Michael got ready with his customary efficiency and dressed in his usual cargo pants and T-shirt. In one of the pants’ left pockets, he stuffed a bundle of American and Eastern Caribbean currency, and in two of the pockets on his right went two extra clips of ammo. His handgun was discreetly shoved in the waistband of his pants under the loose fitting tee. He ate a quick breakfast in the main restaurant, mentally planning what he needed to do that day. On his way out, Michael came across a grinning Edward. He looked like he was bursting to keep a secret to himself.

“Why the hurry, Sgt. Stonebridge?”

“I’m going to the hospital to check on Damien and see if Cara is still there.”

“Guess who I ran into last night after our dinner?”

Michael resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. “Levenson, right?”

“Yup, I got him good and drunk. He won’t be mobile until the crack of noon. That gives you enough time to get Cara out of the hospital.”

“Did he say anything about injecting Cara with Ebola?”

“No,” Edward replied casually. “But he didn’t mention anything about Cara. The truly lethal viruses are kept at the med school’s research labs. It’s more secure there, but I didn’t want to ask him too many questions in case he got suspicious.”

Michael thought for a moment. “If I were to get Cara out today, where would be the best place I could hide her until we are ready to go?”

Edward shrugged. “Probably here. We’re fenced off on one side and we’ve got security patrolling the beach on the other side. Probably stash her in your room and keep her guarded until you’re ready to leave.”

Michael decided not to tell Edward about the conversation he had with Commander Munroe and the outbreak on the ship. Maybe the best course of action would be to do nothing, but Edward’s intervention proved to be a godsend if he did act. With that, Michael went to reception to make arrangements to hire a car.

 

The first thing Michael did when he reached the hospital was go straight to Damien’s room. Dr. Vharma was at the nurses’ station, going over his notes on a tablet when he looked up and saw Michael. He intercepted the soldier on his way to Damien’s room.

“There have been some developments, Michael. Sgt. Scott’s fever spiked overnight: we had to bring his temperature by putting him in an ice bath.”

Michael thought of the three crewmembers aboard the Argyll with the mysterious illness. Did Damien have the same thing? He had to watch what he said next for fear of being placed in quarantine: he decided not to tell Dr. Vharma about the outbreak.

“How is he now?”

“We had to give him a sedative – he became quite agitated and violent. He started hallucinating again. That’s a normal occurrence when somebody’s temperature goes up suddenly.”

“I want to see him,” Michael said with a frightening intensity that caused Dr. Vharma to back away. He brushed past the doctor and one startled nurse.

There, on the bed, lay Damien hooked up to the IV, and this time, to a heart monitor. He blearily opened his eyes; he seemed so diminished not in size, but in health.

“Hey, Damien,” Michael touched him on the shoulder. “I heard you had quite a night.”

“Yeaahh,” Damien sleepily drawled. “Partied like no tomorrow. The doc said my temperature went up to 104°. I was hallucinating – they gave me an ice bath. Mikey – I saw her. She came to my bedside last night.”

“Patient X?”

“Yeaahh, Cara, that’s her name. You were right, Mikey, she’s real pretty,” Damien, slurred his words. “She came to see me, to give us advice.”

Michael decided to play along, humoring his partner. “What’s the advice?”

“Don’t trust Eddie. He gets a cut of the payout for the drugs that will be manufactured from Cara’s blood. He’s going to be one rich Englishman.” His eyelids fluttered and Damien fell back to sleep. Dr. Vharma came in and looked at his patient.

“I can’t explain the temperature spike. He tested negative for the virus and he seems to get worse by night. Has he been anywhere recently where there are a lot of infectious diseases?”

Michael bit his tongue: he wanted to tell Dr. Vharma about surviving Ebola, but doing so could land them both in quarantine. He needed to stay on mission even if it meant gambling with Damien’s life - Damien’s life or the lives of millions. He knew, without a moment’s hesitation, what the answer would be. 

“We flew in from Brazil where we have lived there for three years. Could it be Zika?”

The doctor looked surprised and admitted that he had assumed Damien was sick with the new strain and he wasn’t tested for Zika. “I’ll run some more tests. But we’ll have to wait longer for the test results to come back.”

“How long?” was the terse question.

“Two, maybe three days.”

Fucking wonderful, thought Michael, this is turning into a first class cluster fuck. With the outbreak of an unknown illness on the Argyll and now this, extracting Cara would have to wait. He sat down in a chair opposite the bed and watched his sleeping partner. Michael decided that being with Damien was the best thing he could do right now.

 

Damien slept fitfully, sliding in and out of consciousness. He would wake up, his pale blue eyes wide open, sometimes muttering incomprehensibly, other times making perfect sense. On one occasion, Finn was mentioned over and over again.

“Where’s Finn?” he grabbed a dozing Michael by the arm. “Is he OK?”

Michael replied soothingly, “He’s fine. He’s back in the States, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. I thought we were still in Bangkok.”

“No, that was five years ago. We’re in St. Kitts now: we’re trying to find Cara.”

“Cara, oh, yeah, the Holy Grail. You gotta check on her.”

“I will,” Michael replied firmly. “When your temperature stabilizes.”

“No,” Damien insisted. “Now. You gotta go now. I’ve got a bad feeling about this. She’s been moved. Go just go. I’ll be fine.”

Stretching to relieve the stiffness, Michael got up. “Okay, okay. I’ll go. If I don’t return, then I’ve found her and gone back to the hotel.”

Michael took the fire exit and ran lightly down the stairs to the first level where he found the exit to the parking lot and the stairs to the basement labs. The hallway was dark and the only light that was on was coming from the morgue at the end of the corridor. His heart sank: someone had moved her, if not Levenson, then Edward. He jimmied the lock on the lab doors with a credit card. Being pitch black, the lab was virtually impossible to see anything. Reaching behind the door for the light switch, Michael flipped the lights on only to find the lab in total disarray.

Someone or some people had been in here and chairs were overturned, papers were on the floor and the glass on several pieces of equipment had been smashed. Either Cara had resisted and put up a fight or someone else besides Levenson was looking for something.

 

Exiting the lab, Michael made his way to the morgue. The door was open and the radio was on, playing gospel tunes. The morgue attendant came out of his office and looked very surprised to see Michael standing there.

“Hello,” Michael began. “I was wondering if you heard or saw anyone leaving from the lab, maybe last night or early this morning?”

The man shook his head vigorously. “No, not this morning. I was working here last night, processing intakes from a car accident. After I finished the paperwork, I heard quite a commotion down the hallway.”

“What time would that have been?”

“Around eight, maybe eight thirty. I heard a man and a woman. It sounded like they were fighting – glass was being smashed. He was yelling at her and she screamed. I went down the hall to see if she was okay, but the man had a gun. He pointed it at me.”

“What did you do?”

The morgue attendant shrugged and looked guiltily at Michael. “What could I do? He said he had the backing of the government, that if I didn’t believe him, I could call the police. The woman started crying, begging me to do something. But the man laughed and said if I wanted to keep my job, I’d shut my mouth and my eyes.”

 

A grim Michael thanked the attendant and went back the way he came. He climbed the stairs to the third floor and found Damien sitting up in bed, eating chocolate pudding.

“How do you feel right now? Do you have a temperature?”

“I still feel a little warm, but I feel much better than I did last night.”

“Get dressed. We’re going back to the resort to pick up our weapons.”

“Mikey, if Cara’s downstairs ----“

“No, Levenson took her, probably to the medical school’s lab. That’s where he got all the deadly viruses in storage.”

“Phone Edward. See if he knows where Levenson is.”

Michael phoned the resort and was put through to Edward’s room. While his phone rang, Damien cautiously pulled out the IV needle. Finally Edward answered: at least he was still there.

“Where is she?” Michael tersely asked. 

There was a pause and then the familiar voice drawled, “Nice to hear from you too. She’s not here.”

“Cara’s been moved from the hospital. Levenson did it before he met up with you.”

“He seemed unusually chipper for someone who’s usually paranoid. He seemed actually in a celebratory manner and ordered a bottle of champagne. Come to think of it, he did have some scratch marks on his face.”

“And you didn’t ask him what happened?” Michael snapped.

“No, why would I?” Edward sounded genuinely perplexed. “I didn’t want to alarm him by asking too many questions.”

“What time did he arrive back at the resort?”

“Around nine. I had just left the restaurant when I ran into him.”

Ten minutes to drive to the medical school from the hospital, another ten, fifteen minutes to secure Cara in the lab, and finally it would another ten minutes to make it back to the resort, Michael calculated. They couldn’t have gone very far if he arrived at the hotel at around nine.

“Go to the café. Wait for us there if you want off this island.” Michael commanded. He ended the call as Damien was struggling to get into his clothes. “How are you doing there?”

Damien smiled half-heartedly. “I’m exhausted just getting dressed. But I can’t wait to get out of here.”

“We have to go back to the resort to get our weapons and then we’re going to the medical school to get Cara.”

The American stood up with an unsettling look of grim eagerness on his face and he smiled. “Let’s go get her.”

 

They made it back to the hotel in record time and ran into Edward in the lobby. Michael grabbed him by the arm as Edward yelped in pain.

“Hey! What the ----“

“You’re coming with us. I’m not taking a chance on you warning Levenson.”

“This is really not necessary,” the Englishman protested. “ I’m on your side.”

“We’re not letting you out of our sight,” Damien said, giving Edward a not very gentle shove. “Just think of us as your personal bodyguards.” The two determined soldiers hustled a visibly shaken Edward past the gathering tourists who gawked at the trio.

Once back in their hotel room, Michael and Damien went straight for their assault rifles, loading them with magazine clips and shoving extras in the pockets of their cargo pants. Bulletproof vests were pulled on and Michael looked at Damien.

“How are you holding up?”

“Fine. I’m a little warm. Got some ibuprofen?” 

Edward looked up from his chair as Michael went into the bathroom to rummage around for the pills. “Just what is it that you two are intending to do?”

“Get the girl and get off this island before Levenson calls up his Venetrix mercenaries, if he hasn’t done that already. You’re coming with us just in case Levenson tries anything foolish,” Damien replied, swallowing the pills without any water. “Do you know the layout of the medical school?”

“I’ve been there once or twice. There’s an isolation chamber in one of the labs. I think it’s Building D.”

“Good,” Michael added. “Did you know that Levenson pulled a gun on Cara last night and the morgue attendant saw him arguing with her?”

“Shit,” Edward replied. “How could he be so fucking stupid? If anything happens to Cara -----‘’

Damien was suited up and ready to go. “Come on, gentlemen. Let’s go get the Holy Grail.” That’s precisely what they did.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Damien go to rescue Cara but an unwelcome third party threatens to jeopardize their plans. Edward surprises both of them as he helps them and Cara has doubts over her decision to trust Michael and Damien.

The St. George School of Medicine was located in a sheltered cove overlooking the port of Basseterre when all the cruise ships unloaded day-trippers and passengers to spend their dollars and pounds in town. Although fully accredited, the medical school was decidedly humble in appearance, with all the buildings looking more like warehouses than actual teaching facilities. The entrance to the school was modest and the road leading to the buildings was not paved. Being at the end of the school semester, there was hardly anyone around to remark on the sight of three men pulling up in a SUV, heavily armed.

With Michael at the wheel and more used to driving on the left hand side of the road, Damien turned around to face Edward who was looking very unhappy in the back seat.

“OK, Eddie. It’s time to prove your worth. Which building?”

The English mercenary gestured with a nod of his head. “Second building on the left. The Skerritt Medical Research Center. Can’t miss it.”

The medical research building was one storey and painted a non-descript green that had faded under the relentless Caribbean sun. There was a double set of doors at the front that opened up to a wide hallway, but there were no windows near the entrance. That was a good sign: no one could see them approach.

Michael and Damien got out, and raised their rifles in the direction of the lab. Damien opened the back door of the vehicle. 

“Come on, Eddie. You’re coming with us.” 

Edward reluctantly stepped out. “I would be of much better use here, keeping a lookout for any mercenaries who might show up.”

“Uh-huh,” Damien replied, making Michael smile. “I don’t trust you any more than I would trust a rattlesnake.” With that, the American unceremoniously yanked Edward by his shirt collar and pushed him forcefully out in front. “Move.”

The two soldiers approached the building swiftly and methodically, and positioned themselves on either side of the glass doors. Edward tried the handle: it was locked. There was a small box on the right hand side of the door that looked like a card reader at a supermarket checkout. 

“I don’t have an ID card. Levenson would.” Edward protested.

“Call him on your phone,” Michael ordered. “Say that you have to see him – right now. Keep it simple and don’t arouse suspicion.”

The Englishman dialed Levenson’s number and after a few rings, he got the scientist on the line.

“Hi, it’s me. Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you all day. Something’s come up. There’s been a change in plans. No – this can’t wait. Yeah, I’m right outside the lab. No – I’m alone.”

Edward ended the call. “He’s coming.”

In unison, the two soldiers stepped back, their fingers on the triggers.

“Remember, act natural,” Damien hissed. 

The Englishman paled. “Here he comes.”

The door swung open and Levenson stepped out, still holding the door. “Shit, Edward. Couldn’t this wait?”

Edward shook his head as Michael and Damien lunged forward. “Hands in the air. Don’t fucking move! Don’t fucking move!”

Damien grabbed the ID card from a startled Levenson, and Michael spun him around and slammed him against the door. Efficiently, Michael frisked him and patted him down for weapons before Levenson had a chance to protest. A revolver was retrieved from the waistband of the pants he was wearing.

“What the fuck ---,’’ Levenson sputtered. Pale blue eyes stared bewildered at the two soldiers.

“Where is she?!”Damien shouted. “Where’s Cara?”

“Who?” Levenson asked innocuously. 

The butt end of Michael’s assault rifle came down on Levenson’s skull. “I have no time or patience for your fucking bullshit! Where is she?”

“Adam, just tell them,” Edward said calmly. “They’re with the British government. If you don’t cooperate with them, they’ll be more than happy to use more aggressive means.”

“Edward, we had a deal with Venetrix ---‘’ 

The older man smiled ruefully. “And where is Venetrix’s private army? Where is the plane they promised you?” 

Levenson looked up, nursing his bruised skull. “Who the fuck are you guys?”

“We’re with the British Army,” Michael replied. “Take us to Cara NOW. Is there anyone else in the building?”

“No,” replied Levenson miserably. “What are you going to do with Cara?”

“As if you care, asshole. Move!” Damien said, shoving Levenson inside. “Where is she?”

Levenson turned round, seeming to beg. “If it’s money you want, I’ve got it. Right, Edward?”

Edward looked thoroughly unamused. “Oh, you’ve got the money now, do you? Is this the advance you said you’d split with me, but somehow it never materialized. The bastard,” he said viciously to the two soldiers, “has been stringing me along for weeks now.”

Damien grabbed Levenson by the collar. “Where is she?”

“The virology lab. At the end of the hallway, first door on your right.”

It was eerily quiet inside the research center, with nothing but the sound of their footsteps squeaking on the newly polished floors. On their right, there was a solidly reinforced steel door, more impenetrable than the lab door at the hospital.

“Right through here, gentlemen, is the deadliest and most lethal collection of diseases and pathogens known to man.” Levenson said with a flourish of his hands as if he were doing a magic trick for an audience. “We have several viruses, including H1N1, measles, the hanta virus and even the granddaddy of them all – Ebola.”

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” Damien angrily replied. “Where’s Cara?” He shoved Levenson along as the scientist pointed towards the end of the lab where there was two chambers: one was a cold storage room for the viruses and the other next to it was an isolation chamber with a patient in it. 

It was Cara who got out of her bed as soon as she saw the men enter the lab. Damien came over and tried the door handle. There was another card reader similar to the one that opened the building’s doors. Cara shook her head vigorously to stop Damien and Michael from trying to free her. She looked decidedly ragged for her ordeal: her eyes looked puffy as if she had been crying the past night. Holding up a piece of paper, Cara had written one word on it – Ebola. 

Grabbing Levenson by the throat and slamming him against the wall, Damien cursed him. “What did you do?”

Levenson’s voice trembled. “I injected her with Ebola to see if she could beat it. Just out of curiosity.”

Damien slapped him on the side of his head. “How do you open this door?”

“I’ve got the code,” Levenson said hurriedly. “I wouldn’t go in there if I was you.” 

“The code, asshole.” Damien snarled. Levenson punched in the code. 

“If Cara is infected, she wouldn’t be contagious until she starts to display symptoms,” Michael replied. “But you might want to stand back.”

Damien pushed Levenson aside and went in the chamber. Cara was backing away in fear, not because of the two soldiers, but because she didn’t want to infect anyone.

“Stay away!” she cried out as the tears started to blur her vision, but the burly American simply walked up to Cara and gave her a hug.

“Not to worry,” Damien said soothingly. “We got Ebola over in Sierra Leone a few years back. You can’t infect us.”

“But it could be a different strain. You still could get it.”

Damien shrugged his shoulders, grinning. “I’m Damien. Me and Mikey – we like to live dangerously. We’ve been in so many close calls I’ve lost count. Right, Mikey? Come on, let’s get you out of here and get a decent meal into you. You look hungry.” Cara had stopped crying and was calming down. She even managed to smile.

The exchange between Cara and Damien left Michael wondering how he managed to do what he just did. The American looked thoroughly disreputable, in need of some thorough personal hygiene and he made a clean set of clothes look like he slept in them for a month. Still, Damien was now seriously charming yet another woman whom he just met and the intense look Cara was giving him seemed like she would walk on hot coals for him. Hey, I saw her first, Michael silently fumed.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Cara said. She was wearing a hospital gown and shivered slightly: the air conditioning in the lab was turned up. As Cara reached for her robe, Damien and Michael noticed bruises on her wrists. Both men turned to Levenson and didn’t say a word.

“Hey, she put up a fight,” Levenson protested. “I was just trying to---‘’

“Let’s see how easily you bruise.” Michael replied.

Edward cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, the number one priority is getting out of here as soon as possible.”

Michael went over to one of the computers on Levenson’s desk. “You’ve recorded your results of your research here? Do you have a flashdrive as a backup?”

Levenson looked miserable. “Yes, of course – dates, what viruses I used and the dosages I injected.”

“Hand it over. We’ll need a record of what you’ve done so far.”

The scientist reluctantly gave the flashdrive to Michael. “You don’t understand what you have here. It’s not just her blood that’s special – it’s what it contains. It shouldn’t exist but it does. Her blood contains genetic evidence of extinct viruses and that’s the real mystery. I don’t know how they got there, but if I could find the answer, I could be well on my way to finding cures for mankind’s deadliest diseases. Do you really what this could mean?”

“Yes, I know exactly what this means,” Michael said bluntly. “You’ve been keeping someone as a virtual prisoner, someone whose blood could save millions of lives, just because of the money involved.”

Edward’s cellphone started to buzz. He answered and gave a short reply, ending the call. There was fear and worry on his face.

“Someone just phoned the police and said they saw a team of six men disembark from a boat docked at Basseterre’s port. They just came over from Nevis and they were seen carrying heavy duffle bags. They’ll be here any minute.”

Damien took off his bulletproof vest and handed it to Cara. “Here, put this on. Sorry, it’s not your size: it was made for big, fat Americans. Stay behind me and Mikey. People, we’re going out in single file. Mikey’s going first, then me and Cara, followed by Edward and Levenson. Everyone follows our lead and hopefully, we ‘ll all get out of here alive.”

Michael handed his SIG Sauer to Edward. “I’m trusting you not to turn on us.” The mercenary took the handgun wordlessly. “The clip has ten rounds and here’s another clip. That’s twenty. Use them wisely.”

“Hey, Edward,” Damien said. “Why don’t you call your reserves and tell them to meet us here at the Medical Building on campus?”

“The American actually has a good idea,” Edward replied, muting his disdain for Damien once. He called a number on his cell phone and spoke tersely, ending the call. “There was an incursion at the south end of the island. It will take them twenty minutes just to get back here.”

“Christ, that’s not enough time,” Michael swore. He headed towards the lab door and Damien followed him. “Where’re you going?”

“I’m just going down the hallway and see if there’s anyone out there. You stay here. Don’t worry. I’ll just be gone for a few minutes.”

“Mikey, if you’re not back in five ----‘’

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re beginning to sound like me.”

Damien cracked a grin. “We’re just like any other old married couple.”

Michael gave him an unnerving smile and disappeared quickly down the hallway. Damien turned to Levenson, his demeanor changing to threatening. “Get a piece of paper and a pencil. You’re going to draw us a map. I want the layout of the other buildings in relation to this one and all the entrances and exits of the campus.”

With a trembling hand, Levenson roughly sketched what Damien requested. He wrote an “u” in the middle of one of the rectangles. “This is where we are right now. There’s only one entrance and exit for the entire campus. From here you can practically see who’s coming and leaving. If they are already here, then the best bet would be to hide here,” he said indicating the two adjacent buildings, “and set up an ambush as we exit the center.”

Michael banged on the door. He was breathless when the lab door was opened. “They’re here. Two SUVs, black late model.”

“How many got out?”

“I counted seven, with automatic weapons and they even have a rocket launcher.”

“To blow the doors open, in case we try to barricade ourselves in here,” Damien grimly said.

“Well, the odds are almost two to one – with Edward on our side. That’s not too bad.” Michael attempted some humor. “I’m just worried we’ll run out of ammo before they do. We’ll have to stall for time until your reserves show up.”

“And then you’ll have a bloodbath,” Cara spoke up. “Edward, your people aren’t exactly battle tested. But you have overlooked one asset that you do have.”

Then Cara explained her plan to the men who listened in awe at her audaciousness.

“It might work,” Damien laughed.

“And it will mean less bloodshed,” Cara replied.

 

They exited the lab like Damien had planned, in single file following Michael. One of the newcomers was peering through the double doors, trying to see who was in the hallway. Edward broke the line and went to Michael.

“I know him. Hang back and let me talk.”

Michael and Damien reluctantly complied, forming a protective barrier between Cara and the doors. Edward opened the door, with a sunny grin and a casual manner.

“Well, de Kuypers, fancy seeing you here. Been a long time, what? Ten, fifteen years?”

The newcomer was shorter than the Englishman, with curly grey hair, a broad sun reddened face, and a neatly trimmed beard with no moustache. He wore a straw hat, a denim shirt tucked into a pair of trousers held up with a pair of suspenders, and a pair of heavy boots. Edward thought he looked more like a Boer farmer than one of the more ruthless mercenaries ever to come out of South Africa.

De Kuypers laughed heartily. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re here. You always knew where to sniff out the best opportunities. You know what I’m here for. We can resolve this without a drop of blood being spilled or you can die and I’ll take the girl anyway.”

“Before you make a decision on that,” Edward replied, unruffled by the blunt threat. “There are two private contractors in there. One is ex-SAS and the other one is ex-Delta Force. I don’t think your boys are up to this: this is a far cry from forcing villagers in the Congo to work in illegal diamond mines.”

“Aaahhh,” de Kuypers said with a shrug. “Anything worthwhile is never easy.”

“All they want is to get in their car and drive away.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

Edward turned around and gestured for the people to come out. Damien emerged with Cara right behind, aiming his assault rifle at de Kuypers. Levenson followed reluctantly, looking ready to shit himself.

“I see one commando,” de Kuypers said belligerently. “Where’s the other one?”

Edward smiled broadly which irritated de Kuypers to no end. “Where’s the other one, you shit-eating bastard?” 

Shrugging carelessly, the Englishman ignored his question. “In the interest of full disclosure, I think there is something you should know. Are you sure Venetrix is paying you enough to risk your own life and the lives of your men?”

“You mean, to get my ears talked off and die of boredom?”

“Marius,” Edward used de Kuypers’ Christian name for the first time, sounding like he was appealing for reason to filter into that thick Afrikaner skull. He gestured for Cara to come forward. “This is Cara Wilson, the woman with the golden blood. Tell Mr. de Kuypers why he shouldn’t even be near you. How are you feeling?”

“Worse than yesterday. I still have a sore throat and I feel achy all over like I’m coming down with the flu.” Cara coughed theatrically into her hand and managed to make a rattling noise in her chest. Marius de Kuypers eyed Cara suspiciously.

“So she’s got a lung infection,” the South African retorted, clearly unimpressed.

“Not just a lung infection. It’s just a symptom of something much worse,” Cara replied. “Ebola.”

De Kuypers glanced back and forth from Cara to Edward, his blue eyes opaque with outrage. “You’re bullshitting me, lady.”

“I wish I was,” Cara replied. “How I feel right now is going to be ten times worse soon.”

Running his hand through his hair, de Kuypers stared at Cara. Her face was ashen gray, pale and she seemed fragile enough to collapse before them. She even managed to sway a bit when the wind blew.

“Whatever Venterix is paying you, it’s not just worth it,” Edward added. “When she coughes or sneezes, contaminated fluids can travel as far as 25 feet away. You didn’t bring any protective equipment with you – not hazmat suits or sterile tents, not even face masks. You don’t have an isolation area in your transport so when and not if she sneezes or coughes, anyone besides her will be infected in a matter of minutes or even seconds. I’m pretty sure you didn’t plan for this so by the time you get to Nevis, let alone Trinidad, you’ll all be sick. So, tell me, Marius, how much is your life worth?”

De Kuypers’ eyes widened in fear and he stepped back instinctively. He raised his gun towards Cara who looked like she was to about to cough again. “Tell her to stop!”

Edward laughed. “Tell her to stop? That’s a reflex she has no control over. Come on, we’ve both been in the Congo and Sierra Leone. We’ve seen how this disease spreads and how it kills. Save yourself, Marius or you’ll likely be dead in two weeks.”

“What about you, Edward? Aren’t you afraid you’ll get it too?”

The Englishman shrugged nonchalantly. “Who’s to say that I didn’t survive Ebola?”

Marius reached for his phone. “It’s over, ja. We’re going. Without the girl. No, I’ll explain.” He lowered his weapon and two men emerged from behind the adjacent building. One of them, a tall, clean-shaven man with auburn hair, looked very unhappy.

“What’s going on, boss? You found the girl, didn’t you? Let’s take her.”

“Not so fast,” Marius said. “Give her a wide berth. She’s contagious. We’re not taking her.”

Judging the look of disappointment on the man’s face, Cara instinctively stepped back behind Edward.

“She’s got Ebola,” Marius continued. “Where’s Tomlinson and Maartens?”

Before they could grasp what was happening, Damien moved forward with incredible speed, pointing his assault rifle at the two men. “Drop your weapons! Now!” The two men, along with de Kuypers, momentarily froze but soon complied.

“Edward, get their weapons!” The Englishman slung one rifle over his shoulder and pointed the other one at the Afrikaner.

“Hands on your heads, gentlemen. Don’t make me repeat myself,” Damien warned.

Michael came out from the right side of the medical center with his weapon raised.

“What did you do to my men?” de Kuypers asked worriedly.

The ex-SAS sergeant took his place by his partner. “They tried to resist, but I didn’t even have to shoot. I just used my hunting knife,” Michael replied mildly.

“Where are the other two men?” Cara asked Michael. “You said you counted seven men, including de Kuypers. If three surrendered and two were killed, that means there’s another two still on the loose.”

“Shit,” Michael grimaced. “Maths were never my strong suit.” He said something to Damien who grinned wickedly.

“Mikey, aren’t you always expecting me to finish what you’ve started?” Damien then disappeared around the corner of the medical center to search for the missing men as Edward frisked the three mercenaries for hidden weapons.

De Kuypers and his soldiers were forced to kneel with their hands on their heads as Edward and Michael surveyed their captives with a sense of satisfaction.

“How long are you going to keep us here like this?” De Kuypers demanded.

“Shut up!” Michael shouted back. “Hey, Edward, you might want to check on the E.T.A. of the reserve unit.”

Edward called the reserve on his phone. After less than a minute, he ended the call and turned to Michael. “They’re still on the other side of Basseterre.”

“Dammit, I don’t have wrist ties to restrain them,” Michael said. “Cara, would you mind standing over here within coughing distance of these three? If one of them so much as moves a muscle, you know what to do.” Cara wobbled over to where Michael was and started to sway again. She looked apprehensively at Michael, the man who moments earlier had just killed two men quietly and quickly. 

Somewhere, between the campus buildings and the beach, two other men met an unexpected death at the hands of a trained killer. Suddenly it didn’t matter if de Kuypers’ soldiers were good or bad: they met a violent end because of her, because she represented easy money. Cara wondered briefly if she had done the right thing by consenting to go peacefully with her rescuers, if they really were who they said they were. Michael seemed to be reading her mind because he spoke up.

“Cara, you did the right thing. When we make it back to the hotel, you can speak with the commander of the Argyll and he’ll confirm everything that I’ve told you.”

“But you two seem to kill so casually like it doesn’t even bother you.”

“I am a trained professional, Cara. My training tells me to assess the threat level of any situation and meet it with the appropriate level of violence. These men here,” he gestured towards de Kuypers and his men, “would have grabbed you and killed anyone with you. I did what I had to do.”

Damien returned, casually puffing on a cigarette and grinning wickedly. His hands were bloody and there was some blood splattered on his pants. “Well, we don’t have worry about a rocket launcher being used against us. Hey, Eddie, where’s your reserve unit?”

Everyone in the group now heard the faint, insistent whine of sirens becoming louder and louder. A line of five military-looking vehicles sped furiously towards the medical school and made a sharp turn onto the access road of the campus. Uniformed personnel jumped out with their weapons ready. A young woman in military fatigues hurried over to Edward and saluted him smartly.

“Sir, we came as quickly as we could. We have arrested five other mercenaries at the south end of the island.”

“How many casualties?”Edward asked, sounding like a commanding officer.

“None on our side, sir. Five dead, five arrested.”

“Now you have three more prisoners and there are four more dead behind the buildings. You’ll also find a rocket launcher and some assault weapons. You’ll want to arrest this man,” the Englishman said contemptuously, indicating a glowering de Kuypers, “on charges of attempted murder, attempted kidnapping and entering the country illegally. Speaking of kidnappers, where’s Levenson?”

Cara shrugged, still wearing Damien’s bulletproof vest. “He disappeared when I came out to speak to de Kuypers. He’s now a fugitive, right?”

Damien came up to Cara, a slight swagger evident in his walk. “Don’t worry. He couldn’t have gone far. We’ll find him. Let’s get you back to the hotel and settled in. Now how about a burger and fries?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last chapter posted. I am still working on Chapter Six and I don't know how long that will take me.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cara has been rescued from the medical facility but a new rift threatens to come between Damien and Michael. Michael examines his grief and guilt while helping Cara to prepare for the unknown.

Damien checked in on who was probably the most valuable person in the world. Cara was snoring softly, sleeping soundly. When they arrived back at the resort, she slipped a surgical mask on to avoid contaminating anyone as Damien and Michael ushered her back to the bungalow. She retrieved her belongings – clothes and passport – and then moved into the suite of rooms Mr. Kumar had set aside for them. Grateful to be rid of the hospital gown, Cara showered and then displayed a hearty appetite when she devoured a cheeseburger and a large order of fries. Shortly after, she retired to her bedroom where she fell into a deep and satisfying sleep.

“How is she?” Michael asked Damien.

“Sound asleep. Cara’s had a busy day.”

Michael had pulled out the sleeper sofa and stretched out on it with his hands behind his head. “I was surprised how calm she was with de Kuypers.”

“Yup, she was pretty badass,” Damien chuckled. “Cara’s idea was a ballsy move. That cough disappeared as soon as de Kuypers was handcuffed and put in the police car. Quite convincing and Edward handled himself well too.” He climbed onto the sofa bed and lay next to Michael, propping himself up on one elbow. “How about celebrating our little victory?” Damien’s hand traced the hard lines of Michael’s abs and down to the waistband of his pants. He unbuttoned Michael’s pants when his partner grabbed his wrist.

“Hey, what are you doing? I thought you’d be happy –“

“I am,” Michael replied evenly. “But Cara is in the next room – and I don’t feel comfortable like this when she could get up and walk in on us.”

“Oh, c’mon. She’s a big girl – I doubt very much if she’ll mind.” Damien leaned forward to kiss Michael, his blue eyes cajoling the recalcitrant Brit, but he pulled away.

“I said ‘no’ and I meant it.”

Damien gave up, grumbling something about ‘no meaning no’ and being blueballed.

“It’s unprofessional,” Michael huffed. “We’re here to do a job and once that’s done, you can have me.”

“Oh, goody,”Damien replied sarcastically. “Pencil me into your busy schedule.” He pouted and turned over on his side away from Michael.

Michael ignored his sulking. “Besides, even though we’ve got Cara, that doesn’t mean someone else won’t try and take her. We don’t know if this place is entirely secure either.”

They both looked out through the sliding door next to the bed. “That empty lot has no cover: whoever decides to breach the resort’s fencing will be vulnerable,” Michael said.

“Yeah, but we still have to watch it night and day,” Damien replied.

“We could ask Edward for help. He has his reserve force. Besides, if he wants to go back to England, this is the perfect way for him to earn his keep.”

“You go ask Edward for help. At least he will listen to you. Me – not so much.”

Michael sighed and swung his legs off the sofa bed. “No time like the present to ask. Oh, by the way, how are you feeling?” He bent over and put the back of his hand to Damien’s forehead.

“A little tired, but I’m not knackered like I was before.”

“I’ll take your temperature when I get back.”

“I’m looking forward to that, Nurse Stimpy,” teased Damien.

Michael rolled his eyes. Sometimes Damien could be such a wanker.

 

Damien eavesdropped on the conversation between Edward and Michael, who were standing beneath the balcony, looking out at the empty lot. It was clear that the older man respected Michael and they seemed like two old colleagues chatting over how to resolve the problem of incursions. In the end, Edward offered to have the reserve police officers patrol the grounds around the bungalow and they shook hands on it. 

Michael bounded up the stairs and came in smiling. “Well, that’s settled.” He went right over to the first aid kit and found the thermometer. With a wary show of teeth, Damien reluctantly accepted the thermometer. After a minute, Michael examined it.

“99.7°. No fever to speak of. How are you feeling?”

“Tired but not exhausted like I was before. Hey, what time is it? I’m hungry.”

“It’s four thirty. Too early for supper. You just ate an hour ago, but your appetite is a good sign that you’re on the road to recovery.”

“Let’s go out to eat, go somewhere to celebrate.”

“No, that’s not possible,” Michael replied.“I don’t want to take the chance of leaving Cara by herself.”

“Then why not take her along? She’s not symptomatic yet so she’s not contagious.”

“Absolutely not,” Michael firmly said. “Could you live with yourself, knowing that you exposed innocent people to the virus - the people in the restaurant, the waiters and even the dishwashers who could be infected by handling a contaminated plate? No, we eat in here, and order room service. I’ll phone Mr. Kumar and see if he can arrange having the meals served on disposable plates. The garbage will have to be incinerated. Remember we’re not here on holiday.”

Damien was about to protest when the bedroom door opened and the two men turned around. Cara stood there in a sleeveless nightgown, yawning sleepily and rubbing her eyes.

“You two aren’t particularly quiet; you woke me up.”

Michael started to blush furiously. “Er- how much did you hear?”

Pursing her lips, she regarded them with a mischievious twinkle in her eyes. “Something about ‘pencilling you in’,” she replied, referring to Damien, who turned a bright pink. Both men started to take an interest in the room’s carpeting and were as chastened as errant schoolboys.

“Look, guys, I really don’t care, one way or the other, but if my presence is going to be a problem, maybe I should go back to my own room.”

“No!” Michael jumped up. “It’s not safe by yourself. I’m so sorry – “

“Nothing to apologize for, Sgt. Stonebridge. You both took exceptional risks to free me today, and I’d still be stuck in that isolation chamber if it wasn’t for you – and Damien.”

Damien looked up and smiled weakly at the woman. “You do realize that we’re getting paid handsomely to rescue you.”

“So,” Cara smiled back gently. “That doesn’t make it any less of a rescue and the fact that you are getting paid improved the odds of a successful outcome for me. I can’t thank you enough.” She started to wobble a bit and Michael reached out and steadied her.

“Here – sit down.”

“I just got a bit stir-crazy in the bedroom,” Cara said by way of an apology. “It’s nice to carry on a conversation without someone trying to stick a needle in you all the time. Is there anything to eat here?”

There was a small fridge in the kitchen off to the side of the main room. Damien went to get a Coke and a chocolate bar.

“How are you feeling?” Michael asked her.

“Right now? No sore throat and I don’t think I’ve got a fever, but I am tired, very tired.”

Cara did look sick as opposed to the lively demeanor she displayed when Michael first met her at the hospital. Her pale olive complexion looked even more pallid than usual and there were dark circles under her eyes. 

“Michael,” she used his first name, “I have a favor to ask.”

“Sure, anything.”

“Maybe, later tonight, when the beach is cleared, I could take a walk there. I need some fresh air. I’ve been cooped up so long indoors. I want to get outside, you know, before I --- ‘’

“It’s not going to come to that,” Damien interrupted. “You’ll beat this, just like you beat everything else.”

“I think we could arrange a stroll on the beach after supper, right, Damien?” Michael got a glowering look from his partner. Dr. Vharma will come by tomorrow and check you out, and he’ll arrange any supplies to be brought here.”

“So I’m not going to the hospital?” Cara looked surprised.

“No, the hospital isn’t secure and we have to keep the fact quiet that there is one person with Ebola on the island and there are also two Ebola survivors. We didn’t want to be quarantined.”

“That’s perfectly understandable, but we should get a list of supplies together to give to Dr. Vharma so we can prepare for the worse,” Cara replied. She produced such a list written on hotel stationery and handed it to Michael. The two soldiers were surprised and impressed with her preparedness. “This is how I fight feeling helpless – I make lists. Do you think Dr. Vharma could get this stuff?”

“I don’t see why not. I can set up an IV if and when you need it. I have some medical training,” Michael said. He went over to the sink in the small adjoining kitchenette and washed the thermometer. “We need to take your temperature.” After a couple of minutes, he examined it and could not hide his concern. “100.1°. A little elevated but nothing too serious yet. Do you still want to go for that walk? How are you feeling?” 

“Tired, but I still want to go out,” Cara insisted. “Later on, when it gets dark. I just want to smell the ocean air.”

“OK, I’m heading out to talk to Mr. Kumar to make arrangements for some food and how our garbage will be disposed of. After supper, we can go for a walk: there shouldn’t be a lot of people out on the beach.”

Cara brightened up, thanked him and went back to bed. Damien fidgeted with an unlit cigarette.

“Let’s go outside, Mikey. I need a smoke,” he said, indicating Cara with a nod of his head. “We need to talk.”

Once outside and downstairs in the small courtyard, Damien impatiently lit his cigarette and turned on Michael. “What game are you trying to play here, Mikey? ‘Oh, how about a stroll on a moonlit beach?’ You don’t have to romance her to get her to go to England.”

“I’m not playing any game,” Michael retorted. “It sounds to me like jealousy, pure and simple. I happen to like her and I’ve got a lot of respect for her. She agreed to go back to England. Cara could have said ‘no’ and the PM could have then kicked us both off the island, but she didn’t and so here we are, with our mission nearly completed.”

“And ready to get a huge payday, too,” Damien added mildly.

“Why the cynicism all of a sudden?” Michael retorted. “You know we both would have done it for free. Because that’s who we are – soldiers first and mercenaries second – and don’t tell me there isn’t a difference. You and me – we’re not like Edward or de Kuypers.”

Damien regarded the stub of his cigarette still glowing, flicked it on the ground and stomped on it. “Yeah – I get that, Mikey, but you need this more than me. Having a knight in shining armor complex, and all.”

“And what do you know?”Michael bit back with savagery. “You’d shag anything that moves.”

“Mikey, what I am saying is don’t get involved. When we’re back in England, she’ll be gone and we’ll probably be back in Brazil.”

Michael shoved Damien against the wall of the bungalow, his fists deep in his shirt. 

“That’s awful presumptuous of you, mate. So I get to watch you chase after women?”

Damien relaxed, hands in the air. “Alright, sorry, Mikey, I misjudged. Look, I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Well, you should have thought of that when you slept with a married woman. If my memory serves me correct, a certain someone was giving me grief for sleeping with Kate.”

The two men stared each other down as Damien threw his hands up again. “OK, I get it now, this is just revenge, right?”

Michael turned red with rage, and clenching his fists for a moment; he looked like he wanted to hit Damien. Instead, exercising monumental self-control, he turned on his heel and walked away quickly, cursing the American. Damien shook his head and lit another cigarette, hoping that giving him some time would calm Michael down. Inhaling deeply, he looked wistfully at Michael and still wondered that the man he fell in love with could still surprise him.

Michael came back an hour later, carrying three bags of take-out dinners. Cara was up and dressed, sitting on the sofa with Damien: she almost looked healthy. Setting the dinners down on the small dining table, he smiled too brightly at the pair.

“I had to talk to Mr. Kumar about the measures we have to take. He was kind enough to allow us to order off the regular menu and not the room service menu. All we have to do is put all our garbage in the bags when done and leave them outside.”

“What did you get?” Cara eagerly asked.

“Italian, Damien’s favorite. It’s eggplant parmargiana for you, lasagna for Damien and spaghetti for me. Damien’s quite the cook, Cara. He makes a mean lasagna.”

Damien was uncharacteristically quiet during this exchange. 

“Wow,” Cara teased. “An elite commando and a chef to boot. You’re the dream man for a lot of women out there.”

Both men exchanged looks and Damien cleared his throat. “Let’s get dinner started, OK?”

Dinner was served and the two men studiously focused on their food. The tension at the dinner table could be cut with a butter knife. Finally Cara had enough and put down her fork.

“OK, guys, have I said something to piss you two off? If I had, look, I’m sorry.”

Damien spoke, more hoarse than usual. “No, Cara, you didn’t. We – er – had an argument before Mikey –er – Michael went to get the food.”

“Is the argument over?” she demanded. “Because if it isn’t, make up. I’ve got a lot on my plate – no pun intended – to worry about right now and I don’t need the added stress of other people fighting. Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the two soldiers replied in unison. After several moments of silence, Cara spoke again.

“Thanks for the dinner, Michael,” she smiled at Stonebridge. “I can’t remember the last time I had a decent meal – and equally decent company.” Damien had attacked his lasagna with enthusiasm. “So, Damien, how does your lasagna compare with this one?”

“A little less complicated than mine,” Damien replied. “I start out wanting to make spaghetti and meatballs, and somehow it turns into lasagna. The same thing with chili – it just ends up as very spicy lasagna.”

“Hey, remember the time you wanted to make tandoori chicken – ‘’ Michael added.

“Yeah, and it turned into tandoori lasagna,” Damien said morosely. “I might have started a new fusion cuisine.” Michael started to chuckle as he polished off his beer: somehow Damien’s sad sack demeanor lifted the tension in the room. Michael went to retrieve two more beers and a soft drink for Cara.

“So how long have you two been together – as partners?” Cara asked. Damien’s blue eyes twinkled back at Cara. You, Sgt. Scott, thought Cara, are an outrageous flirt.

“Nine years,” replied Damien.

“Eight years and nine months,” corrected Michael. “I thought you were the world’s biggest asshole.”

“And I thought you had the world’s biggest stick up your – ‘’ Damien countered.

“Now I can see why you two bicker all the time. Opposites do attract apparently,” Cara observed. “Just like an old married couple.”

“Everyone says that!” both men said indignantly. 

 

Later on, after Cara managed to wheedle her way out of going to bed early, she was able for the first time since landing in St. Kitts to sink her feet into the sands of the Turtle Bay beach. The beach was almost deserted, save for Edward’s militia scanning the horizon, the wind was light and the night sky was clear of any clouds. She threw her head back and up to see if she could pick out any familiar constellations.

“Have you ever seen the Southern Cross?”Michael asked. “This time of year is the best time to see it.”

Cara shrugged. “I usually can find the Big Dipper and Orion’s belt. But I can’t find them tonight.”

“That’s because we’re closer to the equator. Here –‘’ he gently guided her by the shoulders. “You need to look south – south west for the Southern Cross.”

Cara saw four stars arranged in a diamond pattern and gasped in surprise. “I see it, I see it.”

“Mariners have used it for centuries as a navigation tool. The further south they go, the higher the Cross rises in the sky. If they want to go north, they reverse course and the Cross disappears beneath the horizon.”

“How do you know all this? Wikipedia?”

“No,” Michael gently corrected her. “I used to be in the SBS – the Special Boat Service. I loved to go stargazing with Kerry.”

“Who’s Kerry?”

“My wife.” Michael saw Cara stiffen. “My late wife. She died nearly eight years ago.”

“Damien told me what happened while you were out getting dinner. I’m very sorry. From what Damien told me, she sounded like quite a woman.”

Even in the gloom, Cara could see the pain in his eyes. “She was,” Michael added sadly. “But now I’m forgetting parts of her like her laugh, her voice. Isn’t that terrible?”

“No. I think the memories fade a bit over time like the grief. That way we can continue to live. Otherwise we would be driven crazy.” Cara took his hand and squeezed it. “I know too what’s like to lose a large part of what holds a person together.” Cara looked past Michael and saw a glowing ember come closer towards them. “Speak of the devil, here’s our chaperone.” 

 

Damien trudged along the shoreline, casually puffing on his cigarette. “OK, kids, it’s time to get back to the hotel. There’s a rumor floating around there’s another team on the loose.”

“Christ, won’t this ever end?” asked Michael.

“Apparently, not,” Damien replied. “Edward’s doubled the number of guards on the parameter so we’re going to have a sleepless night.”

Cara tugged on Michael’s sleeve. “I was going to ask you two one thing.”

Damien raised his eyebrows in unison with Michael. “Sure, shoot.”

“When does it happen? How bad will it get?” The ‘it’ she was referring to left no doubt as to what she was talking about.

“Well, it was different for us. Damien got sick first, and just as he was getting better, then I started showing symptoms. But I declined quickly. The worst was over in ten days, but Damien had a cardiac arrest and I had to be intubated. We both nearly died.”

Cara pulled back in horror. Damien saw the look of frozen terror on her face and leaned over to squeeze her hand. “But we’re both convinced that your blood will protect you from the worst of it. You’ll beat this motherfucker.”

She looked up at the Southern Cross, and although not a believer, Cara said a short, silent prayer. “Come on, guys, it’s time to go back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Chapter Six, there is much talk about Damien's cooking skills and his favorite dish being lasagna. The TV show in Season One shows Damien cooking Italian cuisine. In a TV interview on a talk show, Sullivan Stapleton mentioned he loves Italian cuisine, but added that everything he makes eventually turns into lasagna despite his best efforts. I just took this one step further. A special shout-out to Agent Spooky for kicking me to finish this chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cara faces a new challenge while fighting for her life, the boys find that a quick escape out of St. Kitts is not possible, and Edward comes through in a pinch.

Chapter Seven

 

The sunlight was very bright, Cara thought as she woke up, too bright for seven in the morning. She must have overslept: Dr. Vharma was due to show up at 9:00am for her check-up. Her head felt heavy and her mouth was parched but at least she wasn’t running a fever. Getting up, Cara opened the bedroom door.

Hmmm, that’s odd – the two soldiers were gone. At least one should have stayed behind. She went to the fridge and got out some orange juice. Pouring a small glass, Cara looked around for some sort of a note that Michael may have left behind, explaining their absence, but, no, there was nothing.

It was very quiet – too quiet in fact. There were no seagulls in the sky, calling to each other, overhead. The sliding door had been left open and the sheer curtains billowed into the room like a ship’s sails. There was no one down below – no groundskeepers working on the grass before it got too hot or Edward on his phone conversing with anonymous men behind polished desks in faraway cities. The silence was unsettling and filled Cara with dread.

She wrapped her dressing gown around herself and opened the door to the hallway. Last night’s garbage had disappeared efficiently but there was no breakfast. Treading softly on bare feet, Cara made it downstairs to the outside. The frangi-pangi was in perpetual bloom with a dazzling variety of fuchsia, pinks and whites, but when Cara picked one blossom up, there was no fragrant smell.

There were usually guests up already, going to the main building for their breakfast, but today there was no one. She ventured out onto the main path and there was simply not a soul in sight. She turned back and looked at the beach: it was as empty as if it had been night. Beneath her the path was hard and hot: she reminded herself that it had been a long time since she was outside barefoot.

There was a shout behind her and Cara turned around. There were four reserve soldiers pointing their rifles at her, yelling at her. She tried to make out what they were saying, but her approach seemed to make things worse. The soldiers tensed up and took aim. Where were Damien and Michael? Getting on her knees, Cara raised her hands and spread them open in supplication.

“Please don’t shoot!” she cried out but when the words came out, they were garbled, in an incomprehensible language.

A man approached the soldiers from behind and calmly stood there with a drink in his hand. It was Edward.

“Edward, what the hell is going on?” Cara cried out. Again the words came in an incomprehensible babble. “Tell them to stop.”  
But Edward ignored her and smiled slightly. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

“Tell them to stop! Edward, tell them to stop!”

Edward drained the last of his drink and straightened up.

The soldiers took aim, fingers on the triggers.

He said one word – 

“No, stop, stop!!”

She screamed, sitting up in bed, fighting the bedcovers. A large shape moved towards her and grabbed her wrists.

“Cara, Cara, it’s okay. You’re having a nightmare. It’s just a bad dream.” The cigarette smoke on his breath and American accent told her it was Damien. “You were having a bad dream.”

Damien reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. “It’s just a bad dream. You’re fine.”

Michael came in, rubbing his eyes. Apparently he had been sleeping. “That was quite a scream. I think they heard you in Nevis,” he said, referring to the neighbouring island.

Cara sat up bleary-eyed. “What time is it?” She looked at the bedside clock: it was 3:30am. “Shit, guys, I’m sorry.”

“Not to worry,” Michael yawned. “Besides I had to get up anyway, to relieve Damien. Who wants coffee?”

“Don’t worry about him. He’s barely human until he’s had his morning coffee,” Damien said with a chuckle.

“Did you have nightmares before you got really sick?”

“I have nightmares all the time,” he said ruefully. “I’ve done a lot of bad things in my time.”

“But you were a soldier, you were just following orders –‘’

Damien shook his head slowly. “No, Cara, I wasn’t always a soldier. I was – I was like Edward – and then after that, well, I did a lot of things I wasn’t proud of, to keep body and soul together. Then Michael found me.”

“So you and Michael have been together ever since.”

“Yup,” he chuckled. “Just like that old married couple everyone compares us to.”

Cara didn’t laugh at Damien’s attempt at humor. She just sat there staring off into space, hands in her lap. Michael came in carrying two coffee mugs, giving one to Damien.

“Cara, I think I should take your temperature. Do you want something to drink?”

“Just water for now.”

He returned with a glass of water and a thermometer. “First drink this.”

After Cara did just that, Michael took her temperature. He frowned. “100.5°. It’s gone up. I’ll get you some ibuprofen – that should help with the fever for now.”

Damien grinned. “He enjoys playing nurse.”

“Wanker,” Michael replied. “You’re going to need more water.”

Cara swallowed the pills with a large cup of ice water, her eyes betraying the turmoil she felt inside.

“You’re going to have to drink a lot of water between now and when Dr. Vharma shows up so you’re not going to get much sleep,” Michael explained. “That means at five and seven, I’ll wake you up and you’ll have to drink at least a glass of water. Damien?”

“I think I’ll stay in here. I can sleep in the armchair so Cara won’t be alone.”

Michael was about to complain but thought better of it. Damien settled in stubbornly in the upholstered chair. Cara sank into the bed and went right to sleep. Michael retrieved a blanket from the closet and draped it over Damien. “Here – it can get cold in here because of the air conditioning.” Damien looked up, a bit taken aback. “I think it will help if she sees someone familiar in here with her.”

“Michael?”

“What?”

“I’m sorry about everything, about what was said.”

However, Michael did not return the apology and that stung Damien more than the words that were exchanged. “I’ll be in the front room keeping watch.”

You’re a hard one, Sgt. Stonebridge, thought Damien. 

 

At 9:00am, Dr. Vharma arrived sharply with two assistants. When Michael answered the door, the doctor peered nervously inside before stepping over the threshold. He motioned the assistants to stay outside.

“Where’s the patient?” he asked.

“She’s in the bedroom sleeping. None of us slept well last night. I took her temperature last night. It’s 100.7° now. I tried to keep her hydrated but she needs an IV.”

The assistants started to get into their protective suits, and putting on their gloves and respirators. The gloves were carefuly taped into place.

“Where was she infected?”

“Here. On the island,” Michael told an incredulous Dr. Vharma. “You can thank Levenson for that. He injected her with the virus two days ago.”

“What?! Why would he do that?”

“Because he’s an asshole,” Damien interjected. “He wanted to see how her blood would react to the virus.”

“She has golden blood and she survived the bird flu as well. That makes her a very rare case,” added Michael.

“So that’s why the mercenaries have been attacking the island,” Dr. Vharma said. “I wasn’t told. I should have been: I’m the acting Public Health Officer.”

“What happened to your predecessor?” Damien asked.

“She died of the flu. I was appointed four weeks ago. Well, I’ll get suited up just in case Cara coughs. She hasn’t started coughing again?”

“No, she hasn’t, but, doc, there’s something else you should know,” Damien said.

“What is that?”

“We both survived Ebola five years ago, in Sierra Leone.”

Dr. Vharma’s jaw dropped. “Good Lord, and nobody told me! I could have you both arrested and quarantined.”

“Why?” Michael calmly replied. “We both survived the disease and now have an immunity to it.”

Dr. Vharma held up his hands in protest. “You do realize it is possible to get Ebola again, especially if it is another strain.”

“We were in Sierra Leone,” Damien added casually. “So we probably got the Sierra Leone variant and that is the most lethal. We’re here and we’re healthy. We didn’t tell you because we’re here on a mission to get Cara and send her to England where government researchers can develop a flu vaccine from her blood. We couldn’t be delayed because it is a matter of life and death – for millions of people.”

Dr. Vharma exhaled noisily and thought out what the plan of handling an Ebola patient would be.

“First, I’m going to get suited up. Then I’ll examine Cara, take her temperature and vitals. Her care will remain the number one priority. As for you two, you now confined to this suite until you get the all clear from me. I’m going to get a blood sample from Cara to see if she actually does have Ebola, and I’m also going to take blood samples from the two of you so I can verify that the virus is no longer active.”

“Secondly, we are going to manage the spread of contaminated fluids by setting up a sterile tent around her and help slow the fever by keeping her hydrated with an IV. The best we can do for her right now is to give her plenty of fluids and painkillers to manage the pain when it comes. So I need you two to follow my instructions exactly – and no omissions and no more lies. Is that understood?”

The two men nodded in agreement.

 

Dr. Vharma was very thorough in his examination of Cara and took her vitals – blood pressure, temperature and checked her lungs for congestion. One of the nurses hooked her up to an IV and the other nurse took a blood sample. When she tried to find a vein, there were fresh needle tracks on her arm. The doctor and the nurse exchanged glances and said nothing. She took three vials and bandaged Cara’s arm. Cara looked exhausted as she lay her head back down on the pillow.

“We’ll test the blood samples for Ebola and a viral load. Your temperature is 101° F, but your blood pressure is normal and there’s no congestion in the lungs. We don’t have the facilities here for the type of test – the ELISA test – that is done for Ebola so we have to fly the samples out by medical transport to Antigua. If the plane flies today, we could have them back by tomorrow afternoon. By the way, those marks on your arm – were those done by Dr. Levenson?”

“Yes,” Cara said wearily. “I was a human pincushion for every virus and test Dr. Levenson could think of. Michael – er – Sgt. Stonebridge has a flashdrive containing Dr. Levenson’s work on me. That should give you more thorough info on what he did.”

Dr. Vharma thanked her, reassured her that she was in good hands and went to talk to Michael and Damien, closing the door behind him. Both men waited expectantly for the doctor’s update.

 

“Besides her fever, Miss Wilson is in surprisingly good shape. There’s little congestion in the lungs, her blood pressure is normal, and aside from a few aches and pains, she seems healthier than most. The bloodwork, when it comes back should confirm the presence of the virus or not. In the meantime, I’ll make arrangements to have food delivered to the suite and to have clean sheets and towels delivered.”

When the doctor left, Damien rubbed the back of his head and sighed. “It almost sounds like what I had.”

Michael went over to the sliding door and stepped out onto the balcony. “It looks like we’ll be stuck here for a while.”

“How long were we sick the last time? A week, or was it ten days?”

“Ten days, but Cara’s blood throws a monkey wrench into the equation.”

“That is a long time to wait,”Damien sighed. “Especially when the rest of the world can’t.”

 

The worst part about being very ill, Cara thought, was there was no escape from the disease except when she fell asleep. Day and night melded together in a gray fog, noise and light was muffled by an oppressive pain as hooded and masked shapes moved silently around her bed, watching, waiting, and gathering scraps of information as they disturbed her restless sleep. The virus dulled her senses except the dreadful thirst, and the pounding headache. The pain was all that was left and it was determined not to let her forget she was deathly ill. Occasionally, Cara could recognize Damien and Michael’s voices; and more rare even still, the doctor’s when he conferred with the two soldiers.

On the morning of the fifth day, the doctor looked over the nurses’ notes from the night before.

“It was pretty bad last night,” she heard Damien say. “Her temperature hit 104° and she started hallucinating. We put a cooling blanket on her and that seemed to stop it from going any higher.”

“And that’s about as much as anyone can do for her at this point, that and keep the IV and fluids going. We’ll take another blood sample and check the viral load again today.”

Damien protested about taking more blood, but Dr. Vharma was adamant. “The viral load in her blood has never been as high as it was for other people who were infected with Ebola. As for you two, neither of you have the presence of the virus in your blood. Your vitals have remained normal but I will caution you both from leaving the suite. You could still transmit the virus via Cara’s bodily fluids if you’ve handled a doorknob that the nurses have touched or if you have gone into her bedroom to use the bathroom. I don’t think I need a sample from you today so you’ll tell me right away if there are any changes, OK?”

 

Afterwards, the doctor came out of Cara’s room and he looked relieved for the first time in five days.

“Her temperature is down to 103° so I think she’s over the worst of it. Fingers crossed. The next twenty-four hours are crucial. We’ve changed her IV and she seems stable.”

“Where are you going, doc?” Damien asked anxiously. “You got a patient in there.”

“And she’s got two nurses, one inside and one out. She is stable and I am needed at the hospital. I’ll be back this afternoon to check on her. In the meantime, sit down, watch TV and remain calm. Call me at the hospital if anything changes.”

After Dr. Vharma left, Damien started to swear softly. Michael laid a hand on his arm to calm him down.

“You heard the doctor. He wouldn’t have left if he thought she was in any real danger.”

“Shit, Mikey, I want to hit someone. I want to go out and get shit-faced.”

“I know, Damien, I know,” Michael said soothingly, trying to keep him from trashing the hotel suite. “But she is getting better. Just a few more days.” Michael tried to divert Damien’s temper by changing the subject. “I need to get in contact with Commander Munroe: we haven’t heard from him in over three days.”

“Fuck me,” Damien replied sourly. “Just what we need – another emergency. How many of the crew was infected the last time you talked to him?”

“Twenty – and five had died. The medical staff had to sedate the sick: they were becoming too violent to handle.”

“Christ, it’s bad enough we have the flu to contend with, now we have this other disease to worry about. Do you think Levenson had anything to do with this?”

Michael shrugged. “There’s only one way to find out – talk to Levenson. Edward might know where to find him.”

“Why would Edward know where Levenson is?” Damien asked skeptically.

“Edward wants to get off this island more than anyone else and I’d guess Levenson would want to go with Cara too. His career and his fortune are tied to Cara.”

Michael set up the satellite phone and started to dial the ship. After several minutes, he gave up. “Nothing,” he said worriedly. “I’ll try again later.”

“Maybe Edward can set up an alternative to leaving on the Argyll. Cara said he had contacts in the M.o.D.” Damien suggested.

Michael looked up, surprised. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. But there’s a problem getting past the nurses.”

Damien grinned mischievously. “Who said anything about walking past the nurses? Do you have any rope in that duffel bag of yours?” He lowered his voice so no one would hear them.

“We’ll have to time our excursion just after the nurse checks on Cara. I timed the intervals at every 45 minutes.”

Both soldiers went out onto the balcony and estimated the drop to be about ten feet. They could have easily jumped down but then there was the problem about getting back up into their hotel room without arousing any notice. The railing seemed solid enough when Michael tried jiggling it. He looped the end of the rope around the railing and tied it securely. Edward’s room was directly below theirs so the visit would be barely noticed by anyone.

The English mercenary was sitting in his usual spot. Michael easily made it down to the ground with Edward looking positively bemused.

“I understand there’s this new invention called a telephone. I heard it works quite well,” Edward said with a droll air. “You could have called me.”

Michael grinned. “I was getting squirrelly up in that room with Damien. Besides this is more fun. Anyway, I have a big favor to ask.”

“Go ahead,” Edward said more cautiously now.

“We can’t get through to Commander Munroe on the Argyll. I think the contagion is worsening so an exfil using the Argyll is out of the question. You’ve got contacts in the M.o.D., yeah?” Edward nodded in the affirmative. “Could any of those contacts secure a transport plane back to the U.K.?”

Edward put down his breakfast gin and tonic. “I don’t see why not. I’ll make a few phone calls right now. When will Cara be ready to go?”

“Her fever has dropped today and her viral load is decreasing. She might be better enough to travel in five days, maybe four.”

“Michael, you have to understand once I make those calls, there’s no turning back and we run the risk of having the Americans listen in on our calls. If they are, the C.I.A. might try a “rescue” of one of its citizens.”

“Oh, there’s just one more thing I need to ask – it’s possibly connected to what’s going onboard the Argyll. Do you have any idea of where Levenson is? He might know what the disease is.”

Edward shook his head and then nonchalantly sipped his drink. “I don’t know where he is, and I doubt if he would know.”

Michael carefully studied the bland and impassive face. He must be an awfully good actor to lie like that. Edward seemed to be reading his mind.

“ I’ll hold off on making those calls until Dr. Vharma examines Cara again in the morning. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see about things improving.” The threat was implicit: stop trying to find where Levenson was and you’ll have your way out of here. 

“Copy that. I got to get back before I’m missed. I’m supposed to be in quarantine.”

Edward laughed. “I’m sure we could find a ladder for you somewhere.” As soon as he got the words out of his mouth, Michael had already climbed up the length of the rope without any problem. Apparently those biceps weren’t just for show.

“No problem,” Michael replied. “I’ll give you a call tonight.”

“Use the phone,” Edward said, finishing off his G and T.

 

At least now, there was a solution to getting off the island. The two soldiers seemed in higher spirits now, and after being cooped up in the hotel room for nearly a week, they began to talk about the future as a reality now. Bored with TV, they turned to cards with Damien neatly winning. Around four in the afternoon, Dr. Vharma came by to check on Cara. When he was done, he came out to talk to Damien and Michael.

“Good news. Her temperature is now at 101°F and her lungs are clearing up. She should be up and try walking again. I’m still going to keep her on the IV until her temperature returns to normal, but Cara is definitely on the mend.”

“What about the quarantine?”Damien asked.

“Let’s keep it in place for a couple of days. If her temperature continues to decline, then I’ll lift it tomorrow night for you two, but Cara will have to remain here.”

When Dr. Vharma left, Damien and Michael rushed excitedly into Cara’s room to tell her the good news. Cara was sitting up in bed, reading a magazine. She did look better, Michael thought, as she rewarded them with a wide smile.

“Did you hear the good news?”

“Yes, Dr. Vharma told me,” she said, pushing the opening to the sterile tent aside. “I should be out of this thing by tomorrow. I can’t wait!”

“Well, I’ve got so more good news,” Michael continued. “ You could be getting off the island very soon. We’re making alternative arrangements to get you to England within a day or two once you get the all clear from Dr. Vharma. Edward is trying to get a military transport plane to St. Kitts: he’s working his contacts with the M.o.D.”

Cara’s reaction was subdued: that wasn’t what Michael was expecting. “Well, leave it to Edward to use his contacts. He knows everybody. Why aren’t we going on the Argyll?”

“The contagion’s spread and we haven’t been able to get in touch with Commander Munroe,” Damien added. “It’s just too dangerous.”

“Then they should bomb the Argyll,” Cara said bluntly. “Well, don’t tell me you haven’t thought the same thing.”

Both men were taken aback by her cold assessment of the Argyll’s situation yet they knew she was probably right.

“I’m sure it wouldn’t come to that,” Michael replied nervously. “We’ll get packed tomorrow and I’ll call Edward again to see how things are going.”

 

When both men left her room, Damien turned to Michael and whispered furiously, “What was that all about? She’s not exactly little Miss Innocent.”

Michael looked thoughtfully at Damien. “We don’t know much about her beyond what we already know. But anyone who lived through what she’s lived through doesn’t emerge unscathed. Besides, it’s her survival instinct kicking in. Let’s order supper and get packing. Things are going to move very quickly in the next 24 hours.”


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cara is on the mend, but she gives Stonebridge and Scott a new reason not to trust her. Michael tells Damien of his intentions and holds out the promise of a reconciliation but with a condition attached.

Chapter Eight

 

The next morning Cara woke up before Damien and Michael did, and still attached to the IV, she got out of bed and made it to the bathroom. This was no small accomplishment as she did it unaided. She was a little wobbly, but her empty stomach encouraged her to walk to the kitchenette to see if there was any food in the fridge. Opening the bedroom door, Cara tried to be as quiet as she could so not to wake the two soldiers up. 

Michael was sleeping on his side facing Cara. All his cares and his worries seemed to vanish and he looked so much younger than he did when awake. The bedcovers had been kicked off and all that was covering him was a single sheet. Damien curled against him snoring softly into his ear with his right arm thrown possessively over the sleeping Brit, his hand holding Michael by the wrist. Cara tried to be quiet but as soon as she passed the bed, Damien called out softly.

“Hey, Cara, what are you doing?” Damien released Michael and sat up, rubbing his eyes. His vibrant blue eyes blearily opened and focused on her.

“I’m hungry. Is there any food left in the fridge?”

“Dunno.” Damien got off the bed, naked, looking for his shorts. Good Lord, Cara thought, as Damien bent over to pick up his underwear, there’s a sight I’m not going to forget any time soon. She made her way into the kitchenette and opened the fridge.

“Anything there?” Damien stretched to work out any soreness and went over to her. Christ, he’s hairy and big too, wondered Cara. 

“Beer and chocolate bars, oh, and some orange juice.”

He cackled. “Yup, that’s two thirds of breakfast complete. I’ll go make some coffee.”

Michael started to stir and yawned. He sat up in bed and tried to shake himself out of the fog of sleep. “Well, I guess I’m not going to get any more sleep now that you two are up. Is there a chance that a cup of tea is possible?”

“Just coffee, my dear,” Damien came over with a steaming mug. “Careful, it’s hot. Look, Cara is up and walking on her own. She looks better too.”

“Yes, she does,” Michael grumpily admitted. “What time is it?”

“7:30. Come on, get up, we got to get ready before Dr. Vharma shows up.”

Michael hesitated and Cara smiled. “Ok, I’ve give you some privacy so you can get dressed.” She went back into her bedroom.

“Awww, isn’t that cute?” Damien teased him. “You’re shy around girls. You shouldn’t be: Cara wouldn’t mind. She saw me in my birthday suit.”

“Christ, poor girl. She’s got that image burned in her retinas. If she didn’t make a fuss, she’s probably still in a state of shock,” Michael groused. He stood up and found his underwear and jeans, getting dressed hurriedly before a leering Damien got any more ideas.

Cara came out, smiling at Michael. “Is there any chance of getting rid of the IV?”

“Dr. Vharma’s due at nine. He’ll decide,” Michael said firmly. He held the back of his hand up to her forehead. “You don’t seem too hot. Just a minute.” He found the thermometer and took her temperature. “100.3°. Good news. You are getting better. A reason to celebrate.”

Damien grinned and handed her a large glass of orange juice. “Michael, I think you should talk to Edward before Dr. Vharma arrives so he can call London.”

Cara brightened up. “Are we leaving today? What about Dr. Vharma?”

“We’re leaving, regardless of what Dr. Vharma says,” Michael replied firmly. “You’re needed in England. I’ll go talk to Edward. He went out on the balcony and Edward was sitting out in his chair already.

“What’s he doing?” Cara asked Damien.

“Doesn’t trust the phones. Yesterday he went down a rope to talk to Eddie.”

Michael came back, looking purposefully. “A Hercules transport plane will be here after sunset. We’ll have about 15 minutes to get on the plane when it lands and get out again before the authorities try to stop us. Edward can get his reservists to stand down but that may alert any mercenaries in the area and we may draw fire. So we got to get packed and ready to go on a moment’s notice. It’s eight now so we’ll order breakfast and get ready.”

Damien grinned broadly. “Finally! We’re getting out of paradise!”

 

Dr. Vharma arrived at his usual time of nine in the morning with two assistants. He was surprised to see Cara up and dressed, waiting impatiently for him.

“Feeling better, are we, Miss Wilson? You really should be in bed.”

“I had enough of that,” Cara said stubbornly. “I feel much better.”

“And she’s got her appetite back,” Damien added. “She just ate two orders of French toast, including mine.”

Dr. Vharma raised his eyebrows and got out his stethoscope. “I’ll check your heart, lungs and blood pressure.” When he was done, he murmured, “Everything is A-okay there. Now’s see about your temperature.” Once he got a reading, he announced, “99.7°. Normal. It may be a little premature to pronounce you ‘cured’, but it would appear that is the case. I want you to remain here for another 24 hours, then you can be released from quarantine.”

Cara kept a neutral expression on her face and thanked the doctor. “Do I really need this?” she said, indicating the IV.

“Oh, that, just a second. I’ll go get a bandage.”

The doctor carefully pulled out the IV line and was rewarded with a big smile from Cara. He put a cotton ball over the entry point and bandaged it.

“I know you’re probably going stir-crazy but I want you to take it easy for the next 24 hours, OK?”

Cara nodded obediently. “And the tent?”

Dr. Vharma smiled. “The nurses will dismantle it and it needs to be disposed of properly. Congratulations, Miss Wilson, on surviving Ebola.”

Cara waited for Dr. Vharma to leave and then jumped up and down. “Yay! I’m free and clear!” She spun around and raced into the bedroom.

“Hey, hang on there,” Michael called out, both men bemused by the sudden display of joy. “What are you doing?”

“Packing. I can’t wait to get off this island,” Cara replied, while lifting a small hard-sided carry-on bag onto the bed. She went over to the closet to grab some clothes.

Michael put his hand up to stop her. “Do you have anything smaller? We can’t arouse interest or there might be a shoot-out.”

“Really?” Cara seemed genuinely surprised. “I have a canvas carry-on bag. It’s a bit on the largish size, but it won’t raise any eyebrows. What about you two? You’ve got a lot of stuff here too.”

Neither Michael nor Damien had given much thought to what they were going to take back: they assumed they would be travelling back on the Argyll. They were going to have to pare down to the essentials.

A knock on the door interrupted their deliberations. Edward was standing at the threshold with a manila envelope in his hand.

“I heard the good news,” he said, smiling broadly at Cara. “I have a little something for you.”

Excited she ripped open the envelope and a small burgundy booklet – a British passport – fell out.

“It came through last week,” Edward explained apologetically. “But then you got sick so I decided to hang onto it for you. It’s in Cara Wilson’s name, but you have a genuine British passport in case the Americans try to “rescue” you. As far as the British government is concerned, you are a subject of Her Majesty the Queen. I don’t think the Americans will want to risk an international incident with one of their staunchest allies.” 

“It seems to me like you two have been planning this for quite a while.” Michael said, surprised and a little irritated by the subterfuge that had been going on right under their noses.

“We couldn’t risk Dr. Levenson alerting the American government about the plan to get me out,” Cara replied. “I didn’t want to go back to the States. I have no family there so Edward offered me an escape.”

The two men raised their eyebrows in unison, wondering what else had been planned behind their backs.

“Hey, let’s celebrate our release by getting some properly brewed coffee,” Damien said. “We get something to eat as well. Cara, do you want anything? Come on, Mikey, let’s go.”

“But we just ate. You can’t be hungry,” Michael protested.

Damien tugged at his sleeve. “Come on, let’s stretch our legs –‘’

“A coffee would be nice – and a blueberry muffin too,” Cara called out.

On their way out the door, Michael asked, “What was that all about?”

“I just think that Edward will be more inclined to talk if we’re not hanging around. Besides, Cara will let us know what he said.”

“Will she?” Michael was surprised at the bitterness in his own voice.

“She’ll talk. Cara’s got nothing to gain by keeping information from us, especially about Levenson. Come on, let’s go get that coffee.”

 

When they got back, Cara was watching the weather channel.

“One blueberry muffin as requested, and coffee with cream, no sugar,” Michael handed her the coffee. “Where’s Edward?”

“He had some errands to run before he leaves,” she replied as the two men exchanged looks.

“Yeah, Cara, about that – if we’re going to get out of here, we need to know what you two talked about,” Damien interjected.

“Not much really,” she shrugged. “Edward hasn’t found Levenson yet and he’s worried that Levenson will show up demanding to get on the transport.”

“Who does Edward really work for?” Damien asked.

Cara rolled her eyes. “Who knows? I wouldn’t be surprised if he was working for the British government as sort of a back-up plan to getting me off the island.”

“Then why didn’t he just call London from the get-go and get you off the island by himself?” Michael asked.

“Because I was never under his control,”she said patiently. “If Edward did manage to grab me, then he ran the risk of Levenson going back to the Americans to ask for help. He simply couldn’t murder Levenson because Levenson was very public about demanding refugee status. Once he got that, he was hiding in plain sight and the Americans couldn’t do anything about it. Does that answer your questions?”

“Yeah, all except for one,” Damien asked. “You seem awfully cozy with Edward. How did you two meet?”

Cara didn’t respond automatically: instead she gave them an enigmatic half-smile. “We go back a ways; we’ve known each other for a very long time. We went to school together back in Canada when we met during my junior year in college. Years later, when I moved to the States, we kept in touch.”

“After my husband died in the first days of the epidemic, Edward flew stateside to be with me. Then I got sick and survived, and well, the rest is history. When the CDC got wind of a survivor, they flew me down to Atlanta. Edward was my only link to the outside world. He convinced Levenson to get me out of the secure facility and ask for refugee status in St. Kitts. If it hadn’t been for Edward, I would have still been in Atlanta.”

Cara literally saw the tension in the two men fade away as they seem to accept her version of the past few months.

“Now that I’m packed,” she continued firmly, “I’m going downstairs to thank Edward. You two can get started on packing your own bags.”

Damien waited until he heard her footsteps on the stairs to the lower level of the bungalow before he spoke.

“Are you still worshipping the ground she walks on, Mikey? Because if you do, you’re a bigger fool than I thought you were.”

Michael’s mouth was set in a grim line. “None of us are perfect, Damien.”

“Really? Then how about extending some of the same consideration to someone who has saved your hide more times than I can count? Good Lord, I’m sorry, Michael. I’ll never even look at another woman again.”

Michael huffed out a short laugh. “Oh come on, Damien, I’d just settle for you not fucking every woman that strikes your fancy, which, come to think of it, includes about 99.9% of women on earth. Make a promise to me that you know you can keep.”

“Okay, so where do we go from here? What do we do when we go back to London and complete the mission?”

Michael chose his words carefully. “I’m staying in London, partly for Cara but I’m sick and tired of living in a country where I can barely speak the language and live behind barbed wire and walls. I want to go back home.”

“So where does that leave me?”

“You’re free to go back to Brazil,” Michael saw Damien literally beginning to crumple. “Or you can come home with me. That’s the deal. If you’re going to stay in the U.K., then you have to live with me.”

Michael barely got the words out when Damien grabbed him in a bear hug, lifted him off the ground and spun him around. Michael had barely time to protest the bone-crushing hug when Damien kissed him on the lips.

“So I take it you agree to my terms?” Michael sputtered.

“Ha! Yup!” Damien cackled before kissing the flustered Englishman again. “Come on, Mikey, we’ve get some packing to do.”

 

Cara raised her head and turned around to look upwards at the balcony of their suite.

“What are those two doing right now?” she wondered out loud, regarding her gin and tonic.

Edward finished draining his drink. “Probably fucking. Can I get you another drink?”

“No thanks. I’m good,” Cara replied. “Dr. Vharma is coming by at 4:00 and I want to be sober by then for my final check-up.”

“How are you feeling? You look much better.”

Cara’s face showed the tension within. “I just want to get off this island, but I’m worried sick about getting on that transport, if and when it arrives.”

“I’d try not to worry. I know that sounds pretty useless, but you’ll probably be released when the vaccine is finally developed.”

Cara actually smiled: that must have been the gin working. “I can’t believe we’ll actually beat this virus, that we’re going to beat this pandemic. What are your plans, Edward when you get back home?”

He shrugged dispiritedly. “I guess I’ll finally accept the fact that I’m retired – for good. I still have the flat off Curzon Street and I have enough room for two – if you’re willing.”

“I haven’t had a chance to think that far into the future. I honestly didn’t think I’d live to see this day. I’m actually looking forward about going to England: I’ll just treat it as one big adventure.”

“That’s the spirit, my girl! Oh, I almost forgot. I’ve got you a little present for you, some of a gift for surviving this horror show.” Edward disappeared inside his suite and he came out, beaming, with a beautifully wrapped box.

Cara was expecting a small jewelry box, but this was so much larger that she had to hold it with both hands. She tested the weight: this was no necklace or bracelet. Starting to unwrap it, Cara was stopped by Edward. “Uh-huh, wait until you’re in your own room before you open it.”

“Haven’t you overlooked one thing?” Cara replied a bit irritated. “ We’re going through border control, aren’t we?”  


“Well, that’s where Damien and Michael come in. We can’t have any official record of us leaving the country so when the transport plane lands, we’re going to get on the plane by driving onto the tarmac. I’ve bribed someone in the maintenance area to let us through. We’ll probably have about five to ten minutes before taking off so we have to move quickly.”

“You’ve thought of everything,” Cara said.

“I’ve even got a back-up plan to the escape plan if the maintenance man doesn’t show up.”

“Are you packed and ready to go?”

“Yes,” Edward replied. “Just a few loose ends to tie up and I’ll be ready. Have you had lunch yet?”

“No, we usually order room service. I can’t remember the last time I sat down in a restaurant to eat. Let’s see if Michael and Damien can come.”

Cara simply turned around and called out to the second floor. “Hey, are you two decent?”

Michael came out looking irritated followed by a chortling Damien. 

“I thought we could celebrate the end of this whole ordeal by going out to lunch at the hotel’s Italian restaurant. Edward’s called ahead.”

“Hey, I’m up for Italian, how about you, Mikey?” 

Michael simply nodded and went back inside.

“What’s up with him?” Cara asked perplexed. Damien smiled at her. “He gets in the grumps sometimes, near the end of a mission.” What he silently thought was, lady, he’s tired of your lying ways, but he maintained an outward mask of cheerfulness.

“Good, I’ll be up in a minute,” Cara said, not suspecting a thing. “This –,’’ she explained the gift-wrapped box to Edward, “I have to drop off.”

“How are you going to explain that?” Edward asked.

“Simple. Ignorance. I’ll say I don’t know what it is because I haven’t unwrapped it. See you in ten.”

 

Cara entered the suite to find Michael moping with Damien. She paused, taken aback by the glowering Englishman. Damien followed her into the bedroom.  


“What do you have there?” Damien hoped the playfulness in his voice was convincing enough.

“A present from Edward.” Cara replied. “A way of celebrating me not dying this past week.”

“Aren’t you going to open it?”

“No,” she said firmly. “Edward asked me not to unwrap it until we arrive in London.”

“Well, that’s silly,” Damien retorted. “When did you ever listen to Edward?”

Cara unzipped the canvas bag on the bed and put the gift on top of her clothes inside, zipping the tote bag shut again. “Edward made reservations at the restaurant for us. I have to get ready. What’s up with Michael?”

Damien shrugged, not quite meeting her steady eyes. “Dunno. Must have a bug up his ass about something. He gets like this sometimes.”

“Well, tell him to get ready please. I’m tired of eating in this hotel room. Now let me get ready. Go on.” Cara shooed Damien out of the room and went into the bathroom to wash up.

Michael looked up at Damien. “So she noticed, yeah? What do you think that gift is?”

“It’s about the size of a handgun case,” Damien said, shaking his head. “No good, Mikey, she’s up to no good.”

Michael grumbled something unintelligible as he got up and took a clean polo shirt from the closet and put it on. It clung distractingly to every finely toned muscle of his chest and abdomen. Damien thought to himself, you’re looking mighty fine, Sgt. Stonebridge.

“Well, let’s put on our happy faces,” Michael said sourly.

 

To anyone venturing inside the restaurant, they would have found what looked like four friends sitting around a table, exchanging stories, laughing and joking. But they didn’t because the restaurant was closed for a private party of four and there was no one else there besides the staff.

“How was your penne amatriciana?” Edward asked. Cara leaned back in her chair, having cleared her plate, utterly sated.

“Perfection,” she said, smiling.

“Anyone up for dessert?”

Damien grinned happily. “Sure. I’ve always got room for dessert. Mikey?”

Michael polished off his wine. He had been quiet during dinner but at least he managed to stop scowling. The wine seemed to have put him in a better mood. 

“Sure, why not?”

Edward signaled the waiter to come over.

“So you managed this?” Cara said. “How long have you been planning this?”

“Kumar owed me a favor so I made arrangements last week. I wanted to celebrate getting off this island – and you of course. But I have another reason for reserving the entire restaurant: I didn’t want anyone overhearing our plans to leave.”

“That’s a pretty good reason,” Michael added. “Still no idea of where Levenson is hiding?”

The friendliness vanished from Edward’s eyes and Michael felt deep down a very small twinge of fear. How many men have you killed, Michael thought silently. 

“No,” Edward replied evenly. “I tried every nook and cranny on this island. He might be on Nevis but then I would have to leave St. Kitts to go look for him.”

“He’ll probably pop up when we least expect it,” Cara said, draining the last of her Chianti. “Probably begging to go with us.”

“Cara, we’re not going to let that happen,” Damien said. “Right, Mikey?”

Michael smiled mirthlessly. “Edward, what do you recommend for dessert?”

“The tiramisu is quite good. They serve it with a side order of vengeance.”

 

After the meal, the group walked back to their hotel suite to finish packing. Damien pulled Michael aside while Cara and Edward went ahead.

“I need to go through her stuff before we go,” Damien explained. “Why don’t you distract her so I can do that?”

“And how do I do that?” Michael replied.

“Turn on the Stonebridge charm. Suggest a final walk on the beach, and don’t give me that constipated look.”  


Michael rolled his eyes as if Damien had suggested shoving pieces of bamboo underneath his fingernails.

 

“I just thought we could take one last walk on the beach before we leave,” Michael later explained to Cara. “You never really had a chance to see much of this island.”

She still wore the same cotton dress she wore to lunch. Cara eyed Michael quizzically but finally relented. “Sure – OK. What time is it now?”

“Two-fifteen. Don’t worry, you’ll be back in time for your last check-up.”

Taking off her sandals when they reached the pale yellow sands of Turtle Bay beach, Cara realized the height disparity between herself and the English soldier. He was barefoot too, pants rolled up to avoid getting sand on them, and for the first time, Michael looked happy and relaxed.

“When we get back to England, it will be awhile before you can go to the beach again.”

“And what about you, Michael? What are your plans when we get back?”

“I’m staying in England for good. I’ve had it with Brazil. Damien and I are selling our security business and our home in Rio. A couple of years ago I bought a rowhouse in my old neighbourhood where I lived before my wife died. Damien is moving back with me. So that brings me to something I wanted to ask you. What are you going to do after the vaccine is created? You can’t stay on your own: you still are the girl with the golden blood.”

“Good Lord, I sound like a Bond girl. Am I still a kidnapping target?”

Michael looked at her in astonishment. “Yes, you are and you will be for some time. Have you thought about where you’ll go?”

“Edward has a two bedroom flat in the West End. He’s made noises about me moving back in with him, but I’d prefer to be somewhere else,” Cara looked at Michael in horror. “Do you think I was involved with him? That was a long, long time ago. I have no wish to repeat ancient history.”

Michael kicked up some sand absentmindedly and said shyly, “I was – thinking – I have an extra bedroom in my house in the back. I renovated it and you’d have a large room with your own bathroom.”

“Really? You wouldn’t mind? What about Damien?” Cara asked, unable to contain her excitement.  


“What about Damien?” Michael blushed furiously.

“You two are together, aren’t you? I saw you two when I got up this morning.”

Michael wanted to sink into the sand and disappear. “Well, that’s –er – complicated. I like you, I really do, I think you’re an amazing woman and I am attracted to you, but Damien has been a part of my life for so long, that he understands me – ‘’

“Like no one else,” Cara finished for him. “Yes, I know. Kind of like me and Edward.”

“That’s a frightening thought,” replied Michael. “Considering what he is and what he’s done.”

Cara reached over and squeezed Michael’s hand. “We all have a purpose in life. You. Me. Damien. Even Edward. You may not approve of what he is, but he in his own way has made the world or parts of it much safer places. He has saved thousands of lives, maybe even millions. But he’ll never get a medal or a parade in his honour or even a mention in a history book because of what he is. Edward accepts that because he’s a mercenary – pure and simple. As distasteful as you find him, there’s something to be said for a man who only acts out of greed. At least, he’s not a religious fanatic, murdering thousands by invoking the will of God.”

Michael leaned over and cupped Cara’s face in his hands. “I just have one question to ask you, and I need a honest answer.”

“Sure. Shoot – ‘’ she answered without the slightest irony intended.

“What did Edward give you?”

Cara pulled away, the truth finally dawning on her. “So that’s why you want me to take a walk with you – so Damien could search my room.” The look of disappointment on her face was weary and sad. “You still don’t trust me. You still think I’m completely under his control.” She pulled away. “The truth is I don’t know. I haven’t unwrapped it yet.”

“But what do you think it is?” Michael persisted.

“I don’t know!” she cried out in frustration. “Sorry, but I didn’t bring my X-ray glasses with me. It – it could be a gun. Edward knew I was terrified that Levenson might show up so he probably - ” Cara stopped, her eyes brimming with tears of rage. “I was such a fool, I was such an idiot.”

“No, Cara, I meant every word – ‘’ Michael held up his hands.

Turning on her heel, Cara marched back to her room, cursing furiously with Michael Stonebridge in her wake.  


Damien sat quietly at the small dining table in the hotel suite with the wrapped gift in front of him. The door flung out, Cara with a face full of fury and Michael hot on her heels.

“She figured it out!” Michael called out.

“Yeah, I got that, Mikey.” Damien replied calmly.

“You bullshitting bastard!” Cara spit out. “You had no right!”

“You’re wrong, lady,” Damien got up, confronting Cara. “I’m not going to be part of a shoot-out as we’re boarding the Herc back to England. I have every right to guarantee the safety of this mission and to make sure you arrive in England and alive!”

At least, Cara was rendered speechless, and she shot them both a dirty look.

“Did she tell you what it was?” Damien asked Michael.

“She doesn’t know, Edward didn’t tell her and I believe her,” Michael said quietly. 

“Well, there’s only one way to find out. Unwrap it!” Damien commanded.

Cara looked absolutely furious as she glared at the American. She sat down at the table and spun the box around. She carefully flipped the box upside down and ran her finger between the seams of the wrapping paper.

It was a case for a handgun but when she opened the case, Cara burst out laughing. The two men leaned forward to get a better look. There, nestled in the carved shape in the foam was a dazzling diamond necklace with a perfect teardrop of a brilliant blue gemstone, perhaps sapphire or tanzanite.

Damien let out a low whistle. “How much do you think that cost?” he asked Michael. “We’re talking serious bling.”

“He remembered,” Cara laughed.

“What did he remember?” Damien asked.

“A long, long time ago, we were in Nice and I saw this beautiful necklace in the window of Cartier’s. If there was one piece of jewellery I wanted, it was that. Edward promised that someday I would have a necklace like this but the next day it was gone. I was inconsolable, but he must have remembered the design and had the piece commissioned.”

“So why go to the ruse of putting the necklace in a handgun case?” Michael questioned her.

“He likes to play tricks on people. Edward had us all fooled.” Cara lifted up the necklace, a glittering work by a skilled craftsman. She held Damien with a contemptuous glare. “And here you both were – ready to condemn and convict me by association.”

“You’re not seriously thinking of keeping the necklace,” Damien admonished. “You know what kind of money paid for that.”

Cara’s eyes were hard as the diamonds in the necklace. “It’s mine now and no, Venetrix paid for this. It’s fair compensation for what I went through.”

With that, the argument was shut down and Cara kept the necklace.

 

At 4:00 pm, Dr. Vharma arrived and within minutes, did a perfunctory examination of who was St. Kitt’s first and hopefully last Ebola patient.

“Well, this is one for the record books. You’ve made a complete recovery in seven days. Your blood pressure is a little elevated but that could be nerves. Your temperature is normal and your lungs are clear. I wouldn’t have believed you had Ebola if it were not for the test results from Antigua.”

“Then, I’m cured?” Cara asked disbelievingly.

“My cautious answer would be ‘yes’. I would exercise some care in the next few weeks not to get run down, eat right and rest. Stress will also make you more vulnerable to getting sick.”

Cara suppressed a smile, thanked Dr. Vharma and went back to her room. He bid goodbye to the two soldiers and left.

Michael knocked softly on her bedroom door, waiting for permission to come in. Cara was sitting on the bed, holding her stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Michael said. “About – the gift.”

“Edward knew you would react this way and you did,” Cara said bitterly. “And it really is none of your business what my relationship with Edward is or was.”

“You’re absolutely right,”Michael nodded. “Are you in any pain?”

“Just nerves,” Cara replied. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Levenson is going to show up, and everything will fuck up.”  


“We’re prepared for that,” Damien reassured her, standing in the doorway. “We’ve got enough firepower.”

Cara looked at Michael and grinned. “Did you tell him yet?”

“Tell him what?”

“The offer you made me,” she smiled sweetly.

“What offer?” Damien asked Michael who refused to look him in the eyes.

“After I’m released by the British government, I’ll need a secure place to stay since apparently I am a valued resource. I can’t stay with Edward given his treachery so Michael generously offered me the spare bedroom in the rowhouse he bought in London.”

“Mikey, you didn’t – ‘’ Damien cried out.

“Oh, yes, he did,”Cara grinned gleefully.

“So we’re going to be roommates? Fuck me.”


End file.
